The Darkness Within
by Fayth3
Summary: The Doctor's regenerations have never been smooth. But something went wrong last time. Really wrong and a piece of one was left behind. What happens when he doesn't like the way things are going? Very dark
1. Prologue

The Darkness within

The Darkness within

**Prologue**

It had been a standing joke amongst those at the Academy that 'the Doctor' was as aberrant and unpredictable as the time they were attempting to understand, and even more unfathomable to the rest of the Time Lords in training.

His colleagues mocked his interest in all things inferior, ridiculed his unbridled enthusiasm for lesser species and scorned his compassion. His naivety was a source of great amusement; his heritage a basis for derision and his attitude a foundation for disapproval. His fellow students found his eccentricities to be amusing, his lecturers found it infuriating.

But they all agreed on one thing; the Doctor would not have an easy time in life.

In typical Gallifreyan fashion, their assessment of the situation was 100 correct.

Rejected, exiled and ostracised before his four hundredth birthday, and practically running through his regenerations like water sliding through his fingers, discarded with a carelessness that emphasized his distain for the society that sought to restrict him, the Doctor would never live up to the Gallifreyan standard of a Time Lord.

Whether rumours of a human mother were true, whether talk of faulty looming were accurate, or if the gossip of recessive genes and time radioactivity were correct, it didn't change the fact that the Doctor was flawed.

Most Time Lord regenerations went smoothly, the Time Lord— or Lady— in question, sliding effortlessly into a new form, choosing carefully what body or species to spend the next few hundred years in. They didn't wait until the body was almost wrecked, with barely enough energy to regenerate a few years younger; they ensured that they would have at least as long in the next body as they did in the current one.

The Doctor, however, allowed his first form to age practically to pieces before regenerating, making his second body only marginally younger. The enforced regeneration of his second incarnation, again, allowed him only years instead of decades of respite in his next form. He still harboured resentment at being thrust into an unwilling regeneration by the Council due to his "crime" of interference in alien matters and his third form bore that grudge with dignity and grace.

The Doctor held true to this pattern throughout the years, and each of his regenerations was more painful and less stable than the last, until, finally, it all went so very, very wrong.

To be perfectly fair, it wasn't entirely his fault; after all no Time Lord in all of time would ever expect to have to hold all of the Time Vortex within his fragile form.

The process had never taken into account any latent death wish, or the extinction of a species or even the obsession of one man with a single human child.

During his excruciating change the ninth incarnation of the Doctor held on to one thought and one thought only, that of the girl standing horrified in front of him.

His Rose, the girl who had taken his hand and taught him how to live again. The girl he had fallen hard for and could never tell because he was too damaged, too ravaged to be allowed to hold onto such innocence. He loved Rose Tyler with all his hearts and in the last moment his thoughts were not on his next form, or on the threat of the Dalek invasion force she had just eradicated from space and time, nor were his thoughts on his ship or the pain he was in. Every single last neuron was wholly focussed on her— hoping she could deal with the next him, hoping she would stay with him, and, in his final seconds, wishing he did not have to leave her.

The Time Vortex had granted life, it had rearranged matter and divided atoms and ended a war that destroyed civilisations and spanned millennia.

To grant one last wish was nothing.

So as each cell died and was reborn, shuffling its genetic code into a new variation on an old theme, parts of the man tenaciously held on refusing to be dispersed.

Parts of the war-wounded man with a bitter spirit tempered by Rose-coloured hope, refused the process with a single-minded focus and, using the Vortex, planted himself as a separate entity inside his new incarnation, dormant, but observing and aware.

Immediately, the new Doctor knew that something had gone wrong. He still felt everything for the girl in front of him that he had before, he remembered everything, he understood everything and there was a part of his mind that he could not access.

He didn't have time then or later to think on it as threats arose and danger lurked, and he was thrust into his new life with gusto and a healthy dosing of caffeine and sugared tannins.

He forgot about the piece of his brain that eluded him and babbled to cover his confusion when something inside mocked him for his exuberance.

The surge of anger in his mind when Rose was in trouble made him giddy and he was far fiercer than he had any right to be. He found himself saying things, or almost professing feelings that he never would have thought of, let alone said, and he found his actions contradicting each other with an almost alarming frequency.

Even as he smiled at a French courtesan his head was screaming at him for leaving Rose behind and, despite his despair at losing his TARDIS, he couldn't help radiating abashed pleasure when Rose indicted her willingness to live with him.

The Doctor had taken his apparent madness as a matter of course, simply a different wiring for a new incarnation, but it wasn't until the doors closed on a not-too-blushing bride that he realised exactly how wrong things had gone.


	2. Chapter 1

The Darkness within

**Chapter 1**

The Doctor rubbed his head as he sent them spinning into the Vortex. The TARDIS could do with a bit of break after being forced to fly along the M1, being held together with bits of string and tape and generally used like a taxi service.

And he could do a moment to think after finally getting rid of Donna.

The Doctor smiled at the memory of the brash red-head left grinning at him in the snow. She hadn't been too bad, all told, but Rassilon, could she shout!

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push away the headache that he could feel coming on, building steadily behind his eyes with all the force of freight train.

What he needed was a nice cup of tea, full of tannins and free radicals and sugar.

He turned with a bounce.

"How about we …" his voice trailed off as he realised that there was no one there.

She was gone. _She _was gone.

"Oh, Rose." He sighed and scratched the back of his head, his gaze falling on the purple shirt he had taken from her room to trace her genetic signature. It had been his favourite shirt, filled with memories of the moment when she'd thrown herself into his arms and … and …

"Right," he said out loud, brushing back tears as he picked up the shirt. "Time to put you back where you belong and move on."

He grasped the soft material and couldn't resist lifting it to his nose to inhale her scent one last time. Sweet, like honey and strawberries and adventure and fun and life.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and patted the console. "Just you and me, girl. Maybe we should be alone for a while. Travel, see some space. It'll be …" He trailed off again.

He couldn't even pretend to be enthusiastic about all the universe had to offer. He couldn't relish walking in the dust or dancing in the stars. He missed her already.

"There's nothing I can do," he whispered aloud to the pulsating column. "I can't destroy two universes just to get her back. She's with her family. She's safe. She's happy. Fantastic life and all that. The one adventure I can never—" He rubbed his forehead again, feeling the veins throbbing within.

He looked down at the top he was holding and for a moment it seemed to swim in front of him, his vision blurring in and out.

He blinked hard and the world reasserted itself.

"Right," he said with a laugh. "Sleep, I think."

He pushed the stabiliser button on the TARDIS to alert him to any danger and took two steps towards the door before the room started to spin. The world turned a hazy red as pressure built inside his brain. His hands flew to his temples as white hot lava boiled away inside his cranium, searing pathways through his optical nerves. With a scream of agony he fell against the console, hands scrabbling for something, anything to take away the pain. He managed one blink before his eyes rolled back in his head and he sank to the floor, darkness claiming him.

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't sure if he'd actually managed it as everything was still bathed in the deepest black. The Doctor groaned, clutching his head to massage away the migraine and staggered to his feet, casting around for any sign of light or life.

There was nothing save unending blackness.

"Hello!" he called out loud, hearing his voice echo far and wide, rumbling back to him with a great roar disguising the size of the room. "Is anyone there?" He tried again.

"Yeah," came a short reply from behind him, the tone eerie and hollow like a rotted skull, and the Doctor spun.

There was nothing but darkness.

"Show yourself," he demanded. "Who are you, where am I? How did you get on board the TARDIS?"

There was a mocking laugh that echoed all around him, resonating off invisible walls and growing in volume and derision until it felt like the whole world was laughing at him in abject scorn. It had been a long while since he had been the subject of such contempt and it stirred up memories of a younger him on a long dead planet with people who had never existed. He swallowed down the pain and the distant feelings of inferiority and strained to see.

But there was no up, no down, no light, just blackness. Nothing.

"Am I in the Void?" He hated the way his voice trembled at that. He was the Doctor, he scared the monsters. It infuriated him to be so weakened. "Answer me!"

"Why?"

The voice was directly behind him and he turned again. Although he was alone, he could feel something, or someone, watching him, like a cat playing with mouse.

"I'm tired of games. Show yourself," he demanded again, attempting to put as much authority in his voice as possible.

"All right," came the response. The voice was less resonating and more human and the Doctor turned one last time to see his tormentor.

His jaw dropped. "T-that's impossible," he stuttered.

"You use that word a lot," said the strong northern accent of the previous Doctor. He leaned against an invisible wall, his leather-clad arms folded over his broad chest and piercing blue eyes staring harshly at his successor. "This is impossible, that's impossible," he mocked. "Anyone would think you were useless."

"You can't be here!" the Doctor said, his eyes wide. "You're gone. Dead."

Dark amusement filled his expression. "The Daleks didn't manage it, what makes you think you could?"

The Doctor gritted his teeth. "Every cell in my body died, I changed. Regenerated. I'm me. You're gone."

"Odd thing, death," the old Doctor said with a nonchalant shrug. "What's life but a quirk of matter? Nanogenes can rewrite the genetic code. What do you think the entire Time Vortex could do?"

The Doctor swallowed as realisation swept over him. "No. No, no, no, no. You can't still be alive."

It was impossible. One incarnation died and the next was allowed to live, occupying the same space but with a different structure; a mass of clay smashed down and rebuilt into a new form. Same clay; new shape.

There couldn't be two Doctors. _He_ couldn't be alive.

"I'm not," offered the old Doctor, smirking as he all but read the mind of the new Doctor.

The calm words silenced him for a moment and he stared at his previous body. "Why are you here? Where is here?"

The old Doctor stared up at the blackness with a malicious grin on his weathered face. "We're in your mind. Well, it was my mind first. That all right?"

"No," said the Doctor, glaring at his previous self.

"Tough." The grin left and hardness appeared in his eyes. It was a hardness that could commit genocide; an inflexibility that demanded conformity or absence; a rigidity and determination that allowed a girl to be trapped alone with a Dalek. The Doctor paled a little in the face of his own unyielding nature.

"Wait a minute, hang on one second." The Doctor held up a hand. "So, we regenerated but the Time Vortex allowed one little piece of you to remain in me?"

The older Doctor nodded his head magnanimously, as if bestowing favour on a lesser subject. "Not as daft as you look," he allowed.

"But why? What for?" The Doctor's eyes gleamed. "I remember your death wish; you didn't want to stick around. So, what? You want me to help push you on? All you had to do was say." He grinned smugly, pleased at having figured it out and a little relieved. It was the unpredictability of his previous incarnation that set him on edge.

"You like listening to yourself don't you?" said the old Doctor with a roll of his eyes. "And no, I don't need your help '_moving on'_. I'm comfortable where I am, thanks."

There was an odd glint in the expression of the old Doctor that had the new feeling very uneasy. He had never been comfortable in his previous body, finding the edges of his soul a little blacker and more ragged than he had ever thought. The idea that that part of him wasn't as dead as he had hoped was more than a little disconcerting.

He cleared his throat to hide his disquiet. "So, why drag me inside my own mind? What do you need me for, umm?"

"Who says I do?" the northern voice asked, vastly amused. He unfolded his arms and stalked towards the Doctor. "See, I'm a genius, me. When I realised that I wasn't quite dead I had some time to look around this place." He flicked his glance around the blackness. "Got used to it here. Learned a few new tricks." His gaze landed on the new Doctor. "Like this."

Immediately thick bands of black wire hurtled themselves around the new Doctor, strapping his arms to his chest, binding him with painful accuracy, tightening until he could feel them biting into his skin. The fact that they came out of nowhere was as surprising as the power they held, sliding around his body like vicious vines intent on squeezing him into oblivion. His breath caught as they slid around his ribs, a snake constricting his breathing, cutting off his circulation whilst the snake charmer just watched with casual indifference.

"Hey!" he yelled but the old Doctor just smirked.

"Feel a bit tied up?"

"Let me go!" the Doctor wriggled but the wires just tightened.

"That's _not_ going to happen." The old Doctor stalked around him in a circle, eyes staring intently. "I don't see it."

"What?" the Doctor snapped.

"What Rose would see in such a pretty boy. It's not like you're handsome or got character even. Even Rickey the idiot had something, but you? You're just 'cute'." He wrinkled his nose like it was dirty word.

"You're not my type either," the Doctor spat, his unease exploding into something bordering on anxiety.

He would not be afraid of himself. It wasn't possible.

"But she would stare," the old Doctor continued like there was no interruption, "eyes on your arse and hair. What's so great about your hair?"

"I have some," he replied flippantly realising too late that he just made a tremendous error in judgement.

The old Doctor gave a lopsided frown and nodded and the Doctor felt like he'd been hit in the chest with a truck. He flew backwards, his bound body hurtling through the air until he struck something solid. His head banged off a wall which hadn't been there before and stars exploded into his vision, his headache thundering back. He fell to the floor and crumpled onto his side. The impact had tugged his hands against his ties and the thick wire had sliced into his palms causing blood to run down his fingers and drip onto his suit. The dull ache made him look up to see the old Doctor folding his arms again satisfaction at his pain evident on his face.

"You're nothing special, pretty boy," the old Doctor sneered.

The Doctor struggled to his feet, ignoring the steady drip of blood as it splashed on his pin-striped trousers.

"I'm you," gasped the Doctor to his counterpart.

"I'm me," the old Doctor corrected, "you're a mistake. Pretty boy all hair and arse and no sense. You lost Rose."

The Doctor swallowed down the pain, forced down the anger and glared with hatred at his former self. "She was stolen from me."

"And you've done what to get her back?" The amiable man was gone and fury filled his expression, spittle flying from his mouth as he yelled at himself. "Found a rip to say goodbye, all done? She saved your life! What kind of thanks is leaving her?"

A hand whipped up, slashing in mid-air and the Doctor felt a stinging slap to his face, though nothing touched him, and his head slammed back against the wall. The old Doctor stalked forwards, his face twisted with anger and menace. He pushed his fingers towards the Doctor, who found himself being lifted by an invisible force to hang against the wall, stuck like a insect on a windshield.

His legs wriggled and he gasped as pressure increased on his chest. "W-what are you doing?" he choked.

"Anything I want." Was the bitter reply and the old Doctor squeezed his fingers into a fist. The Doctor screamed as he felt his hearts tighten and try to beat around a powerful force. Veins throbbed as the blood couldn't get around his body and red liquid trickled from his nose.

The old Doctor suddenly dropped him and he fell to the floor, wide-eyed and gasping. "What do you want?" he asked as he shrank away from the oncoming psychotic.

"Go back for Rose," the old Doctor demanded.

"I can't," cried the Doctor, grief colouring his tone.

"It's Rose!"

"I can't!"

"No, you won't," hissed the old Doctor. "There are ways, you know there are. Our people could hop between the two dimensions and be home in time for tea. Parallel travel was easy."

"Was!" the Doctor protested, but knew it was useless. "You know they closed down the walls to dimensions, you know that. We can't do it. There are two universes at stake here!" the Doctor shouted, his hands frantically trying to free themselves from the wire bonds. "Rose wouldn't want me to risk the annihilation of both."

He paused as the older Doctor laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. It was filled with hate and anger, rolling off the walls in waves of malice, escalating into a mad sort of cackling. The Doctor cringed inwardly as he heard it.

"You forget. I was there," whispered the old Doctor as he looked up into the darkness, his body becoming almost as still as statue.

For a second the Doctor wondered if the man had stopped his own brand of insanity but then words floated around his head; heart-breakingly familiar words that renewed a grief he'd tried so hard to suppress.

"_Can't you come through properly?" Her voice trembled with the effort of holding back tears._

"_The whole thing would fracture," he explained, "two universes would collapse."_

"_So?" she sobbed._

The replayed memory stopped and the old Doctor turned on him as Rose's sob echoed around the chamber.

"She said 'So?' Rose would want to be with me, no matter what. Forever, I heard her. I heard everything and I understood." He straightened. "All we had to do was try to get her back, and you won't. You gave up on Rose."

"I never did!" the Doctor protested vehemently.

"I died so that she could spend a few more hours with her Dad. I would have let the world die to keep her happy. You left her on a space ship while you 'danced' with a vapid blonde."

"Reinette was—"

"You would have gone through life with her but you couldn't try to find Rose."

"I can't!"

"Well, I can."

The Doctor responded to this proclamation with silence. It was a few moments before he found his voice again. "What?"

The old Doctor smirked harshly. "I've had a year here, boy; I know the tricks and traps of your mind better than you do. I _know_ you and I'm no pampered Princess who pretends to understand the loneliness of a murderer. You had time with Rose and you flittered it away. Now I'm taking it back."

"You can't."

"Watch me."

The Doctor felt his stomach drop as he realised that this manifestation was serious. He was going to try to take control. All this time, trapped in a corner of someone else's mind, forced to watch as the woman he loved, desired and needed, fell for someone else. All this time helpless but for what he could achieve ensnared here inside someone's consciousness, learning to manipulate his environment and twist things to his own beck and call.

He wanted out.

He wanted Rose and he was going to take it all. There was truth in his expression, and madness.

The Doctor stared with horror at the hard eyes and angular face. "You're mad."

"Yep," the old Doctor said. "And doesn't that scare you to death?"

It did. Because the Doctor knew what he had been capable of, knew that this incarnation had danced on the line between madness and sanity and had only been pulled back from the edge by a young girl who had been sucked into another world. He knew what he was capable of with all his rationality; what he'd do without it was unthinkable.

The old Doctor leaned into his future face and grinned. "And you, all helpless, poor new, new Doctor. All alone. Why don't you sleep?"

He reached up with one single digit and pressed it against the Doctor's forehead.

An explosion of pain erupted in the Doctor's mind and he bit down on his lip to stop the scream that would have torn itself, unwilling, from his throat. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

The old Doctor snorted and pushed with his finger and the Doctor fell backwards onto a soft four poster bed, his hands still bound and bleeding.

The Doctor's eyes flickered around the room that had suddenly appeared from nowhere, a bare room with black walls, one iron door and no other furniture but the bed. He stared up at his previous body in shock and a little fear. "You can't trap me here. It's my body, my regeneration. You had your chance and you died, for Rose. I'll look for a way back to her. I will. Just let me go."

"Let me think about that." The sarcasm dripped from his voice as he produced another length of wire and tied the Doctor's feet to the bed. A metal padlock appeared in his hands and he chained the Doctor down with a malicious enthusiasm.

"Knew you were a closet sadist," the Doctor spat.

The old Doctor just grinned. "Time to come out of it then."

"It's my mind!" the Doctor yelled as his captor turned away. "I'll find a way out."

The old Doctor leaned against the door. "Took me a year. Good luck with that."

With that he slammed the door and a lock tumbled into place with an ominous click, leaving the Doctor bound helpless in the dark. Locked in his own mind with no way of moving or leaving.

Trapped.

"This," he said into the blackness, "is not good."

--

The TARDIS was making her usual comforting sounds when he came to, humming and singing in her usual cacophony of electrical and vortexual sounds. He could feel the cool metal grate under his cheek and it took a moment for him to remember how a physical body functioned.

For longer than he cared to remember, all he had was the power of his mind to shape his surroundings. He imagined light and suddenly it was bright. He envisioned a palace or a banquet or even a plate of beans on toast and it was there. Suddenly, however, now he had to remember how to open his eyes.

He blinked and the golden green light from the TARDIS filtered into his vision, causing him to turn his head.

"Oi, turn it down, would ya?" he groused and the TARDIS dimmed the light. He pushed himself to his knees and sat up, shaking the cobwebs from his head. Something tickled his forehead and he brushed at it. Seconds later it was back and he reached up to yank whatever it was away, only to realise that it was attached.

It was hair.

Wait, since when did he have hair?

His fingers reached up into thick handfuls of soft hair and traced down to sideburns. Sideburns?

He looked down to his hands and where there should be thick, calloused fingers there were long, slim digits, weak wrists and the edges of a suit.

The Doctor surged to his feet, feeling vertigo crash over him as he stood slightly shorter than he remembered. He staggered over to the door and leaned against the frame, trying to brush away the dizziness and nausea that swamped him.

In three steps he was at his bedroom door, the TARDIS having moved it for him, and he stumbled into his room, ignoring the different décor and the repositioning of the furniture.

Stumbling to the wardrobe, he wrenched it open with a grunt, and stared at himself for the first time in over a year.

"Oh, bollocks," he said, brown eyes staring back in dismay. "New teeth."


	3. Chapter 2

The Darkness within

**Chapter 2**

The Doctor stared at his reflection in disgust. "I'm a pretty boy."

His northern accent sounded odd coming from these fuller lips and he licked at his teeth as they tried to form the words. "Nancy. Ponce. Poser."

His eyes traced his slim figure and he sneered. "Suit with trainers? Pillock."

He turned, regarding his figure side-ways on and then from behind. "Could have been worse, I s'pose." He reached up and pushed the hair back from his forehead again where it was determined to fall. His fingers touched his ears and he allowed himself a little grin. "Better."

Better than what, he wasn't sure. He hadn't really thought this whole mind swap thing through. He'd half expected to wake up and be him; big ears, big nose, face full of lines and pain and age. He'd half expected to still be the man he once was, and to have to face being someone else was more than a little odd.

Speaking of odd.

He closed his eyes and searched inwardly, checking on the sealed door inside his mind where he could feel the presence of the new Doctor, still locked away and being very creative with his curses. Satisfied, he shrugged himself back to the here and now and sniffed. He had things to do, places to go and a very important Rose to rescue. He took a step forward and grimaced. First things first, though. He bit his lip and shoved his hands into his pockets. He _really_ needed a new outfit.

The TARDIS was somewhat confused as her Time Lord bounded up the stairs to the wardrobe, oddly delighted at finding himself lighter and bouncier. She watched in perplexity as he rolled his eyes at her choice in new suits—blue and more pin-stripes—and turned his nose up at burgundy trainers and tie.

Undaunted, she offered a new selection of shirts, but he simply shook his head, rifling through the racks for something else. She showed him trench coats and rain macs and plimsolls and he just laughed.

Tentatively she allowed herself to sneak into his mind to find what he wanted and pulled back immediately. As she handed him an old familiar leather jacket she knew that there was something very wrong indeed.

The Doctor walked around the console, tapping his sonic screwdriver in his hand as he made the three hundredth and twenty third circuit of the TARDIS. Five and a half hours later and he was still pacing, trying desperately to come up with a plan of getting what he wanted. He'd even taken to talking to himself, which was never a good sign.

"Right, assets. I've got the TARDIS, sonic screwdriver, Rose's genetic signature, the co-ordinates of Time and Space and her universe and a brain the size of a planet. What I don't have is a clue."

Destroy it, hissed a voice. Find a black hole and rip and tear, fight the way through. Destroy it all.

He closed his eyes against the sudden desire to do just that; to tear through the fabric of reality and find Rose, hold her as the universe splintered around them, cascading into oblivion in beautiful hues of blood red. Stars would die and they watch as time itself unravelled; two universes bleeding into one.

Stop it! The Doctor shook himself even as he longed to act on his most destructive desires. Rose, no matter how much she'd wished for him back, would never want the universe to collapse. Besides he wanted more time with Rose than a few minutes whilst everything died around them—it wouldn't be conducive to some of his more romantic reunion fantasies.

He sagged into the console chair, almost missing it as he forgot how thin he was now. Righting himself quickly, he scratched at his much smaller nose. "Now, how do I get from this universe to another without sucking all of us into hell? Anyone?" He looked around the empty TARDIS in interest and grinned at his own insanity.

He'd gotten used to talking to himself. A year alone in the mind of a man he hated was enough to make anyone crazy. But to have to watch as Rose, _his_ Rose started to fall in love with someone that was and wasn't him was more than his fragile grip on reality could take.

The older Doctor had always wanted Rose, though his desire had started out innocently enough. She was young and beautiful and inquisitive and a child compared to his nine centuries. But although he chose not to voice the sentiment, he acknowledged that there was something intoxicating about her. He loved the delight she'd shown as she stepped into the snow in Cardiff, appreciated her strength as she refused to back down about the serving girl, and the moment she'd stared up at him and asked him to spare the stretched piece of skin that had almost killed her, he knew she'd be more to him than just a companion.

She'd become his confidence, his compassion and his life-line.

In the gentle beat of one of his hearts, he'd recognised a kindred spirit and he'd fallen head over heels. Rose probably didn't even know what she'd done.

He'd expected her to be angry at him for dropping her off after twelve months instead of twelve hours. He'd expected her to be angry about his making Rickey the idiot a murder suspect. He'd thought she'd be chasing after her mother to explain about where she'd been and what he was, what the TARDIS was.

Instead she'd told Mickey to shut up and asked him about the invasion, keen to know what was going on. Then, when they were surrounded by the police and the army, she didn't bolt like Mickey; she'd stood by him, held her hands up in the air and got in the car.

She turned to him as he'd jokingly asked who the foremost expert in aliens was.

Rose Tyler had been missing for a year. Her mum was going mad, her boyfriend was wanted for her murder, aliens had landed to invade and she was being taken away in a police car and she'd _joked_ with him.

Rose Tyler was inquisitive, adventurous, brave, nosy, loyal and funny. He'd fallen hard and let it slip by admitting that he'd rather have blown up the world than lose her. But, in typical Rose fashion, she'd made the decision for him and he loved her even more for it.

Love turned to desire rapidly, fuelled by jealousy, first of Adam, then of Mickey, and brought to a raging torrent by Jack. The way the pretty boy's eyes raked over her lush form, dragging her innocence down to base level had made him seethe.

More than once he'd wanted to flush Jack out of the nearest air-lock; to have it just him and Rose, the way it was supposed to be. He painted his sign over her, held her close, held her tight and warned Jack away; yet, he denied himself because he didn't think she would ever want someone as old and jaded and … odd looking as him.

He realised how wrong he had been the moment Rose asked the newer prettier version if he could change back. For that blissful moment it was like the Time War had never happened. His hearts had leapt and he was ready and willing to be with Rose.

By then, though, it was too late. He was dead and Rose moved on, slowly and reluctantly, but she had moved on. In the end, she hadn't had a choice.

Now he had a second chance, and by Rassilon he was going to take it! And once he had her, he was _never_ going to let her go.

The Doctor lurched to his feet, determination in his eyes. "I want Rose back. I saved her from the middle of a Dalek fleet; I can save her from a bloody parallel world."

He braced his arms on the console and stared up at the central column, thinking deeply, his mind going a mile a minute as he tried to come up with some sort of plan. "Think. How do you break through into another universe? Torchwood. Yeah, not going there." He glowered at the thought of his future self's dealings with the creepy organization. "I broke through once when I hooked the console up to a nuclear reactor."

And he had.

In his third incarnation he'd been exiled to Earth for 'interference in lesser species planetary affairs' with the TARDIS console locked to stop time and space travel. He'd taken the central console out and hooked it up to a nuclear reactor in order to break the programming, the enormous surge of energy made him jump sideways into a parallel universe which—through no fault of his (for once)—was destroyed by an inferno of lava. He found himself distracted by thoughts of the Brigadier with an eye patch until his own words caught up with him.

"Nuclear reactor. Cardiff! I am a genius!"

He clapped his hands in glee as he remembered the Slitheen woman and her plan to make a Nuclear power plant in Cardiff.

Cardiff, rift; rift, energy; energy, hole in space. If he could somehow harness the energy from the rift scar he could use it to open the fault line. Not a lot and maybe not even neatly, but enough to get through to another world. He'd have to be quick and precise, but he'd had worse odds. The hard part would be finding some way of unpicking the scab and travelling through the dimensional hole without having the TARDIS fall to pieces.

"That's more like it, now we're getting somewhere." He dashed over to the other side of the console and pushed and pulled levers, flicked switches and tapped the keyboard with strong serious strokes, a manic grin on his face.

The TARDIS spun her way through the Vortex and homed in on Earth, Cardiff. She had the Time and Space co-ordinates of her last landing site logged in and she retraced her steps until she was standing in front of the Millennium Centre; bold, brash and virtually unnoticed.

"Fantastic! Now to find some way of opening the rift," he paused, "without killing the universe."

The Doctor strode confidently to the door and pulled it open, grinning around at the outside before almost jumping out onto the street. This body was so much lighter than the previous one. It would take some getting used to.

"_Don't get too attached." _Came a thought from his prisoner.

The Doctor grinned at the voice in his head. "Worked out how to talk, have we?" he smirked inwardly. "Took you long enough."

"_I was a little preoccupied with getting untied."_

The Doctor leaned against the TARDIS and focussed into his own mind, peering through a certain locked door to a single four-poster bed with a man still tied to the posts.

"Gave up on that, did you?"

He could feel the embarrassment and annoyance stemming from his future self and felt a smug sense of pride in his own abilities. It had taken him a long time to learn to manipulate things in his own mind and he knew it would take this pretty boy even less, because he was the rightful owner. Just meant that he'd have to work that little bit faster to get his Rose back.

He glanced up at the Millennium Centre and grinned remembering a time when he, Jack, Rose and Mickey had walked down these streets laughing and joking, telling tall tales and holding hands—well, him and Rose. Not him and Mickey.

He remembered the feel of her hand in his, her soft palm against his calloused one. He remembered the way she leaned her head against his shoulder, her soft hair tickling his cheek as he glanced down at her mischievous eyes. He recalled the way she stuck her tongue between her teeth as she teased him and the unashamed way she'd thrown her head back in delight at Jack's tales. He remembered that short skirt and his first glimpse of Rose Tyler's legs encased in leather boots which had him tucking his hands into his trouser pockets far more often than he was comfortable with. He remembered her scent and the myriad of fantasies about that scarf he'd had every time she pulled it up to her lips.

He stared up at the sky as the memories delighted him and each one fortified his desire to get her back. He straightened and moved away from the TARDIS, stepping onto the streets of Cardiff and straight into a hard body.

"Oof!" he gasped. "Sorry, mate."

"Nah!" said the man he'd run into. "My fault. Wasn't expecting someone to be standing just … there." The man looked confused for a moment. "Wassat big blue box doin' there?"

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder in surprise. "That? You noticed that?"

The man frowned, thick eyebrows heavy set and arrogant. "Well, yeah. Ruddy great box standing on the … uh, in front of the centre."

The Doctor gave the man an interested glance, noting his similar taste in dark colours and beaten leather jacket. "Most people don't really notice it."

The man gave him an odd look and then shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You look familiar, have I seen you somewhere before?"

"Oh, shouldn't think so." The Doctor grinned. "I've got one of those faces, you know, pretty, obnoxious. Easy to mistake me for anyone."

This pretty boy incarnation was pretty generic. Not like his old face; his old face had character.

This time the look he was given was really peculiar. "Right. Well, look. You can't leave that box there."

"Why not?" The Doctor asked amused. "It's not in anyone's way. I bet people barely notice it's there."

"It's on an emergency exit, mate," the man said sarcastically. "An' it's a bleedin' eyesore."

"Emergency exit to what? The sewer?" the Doctor glanced around. There was nothing anywhere nearby that it could even be blocking and he was done humouring this ape.

"Who are you anyway, Cardiff aesthetics?" The Doctor mocked.

"No, I'm Doctor Owen Harper and I can have the police here in two shakes to get this thing removed." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mobile phone.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and reached into his own pocket even as the man lifted the phone to his mouth.

"Yeah, Ianto, get me Gwen," he said as the sonic screwdriver started to buzz. In seconds Doctor Owen Harper dropped his smoking phone and stared, open mouthed at the brown haired man as his pricey Nokia became a puddle of brown goo.

"Oi, that was a bloody expensive phone!"

"Well, here's a tip for your next one." The Doctor grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hoisted him up against the TARDIS, darkness filling his eyes as anger took over. "Don't get in my face and don't get between me and what I want, all right?"

"Yeah," choked Owen.

"Good." The Doctor dropped him, his mask back in place. "Now run along, Ewan the useless."

"Owen," he corrected arrogantly as he stroked his throat.

"Ewan," the Doctor mocked.

"Owen, I think I know my own name."

"You_ think_ you know? How stupid are you?" And with that last sally the Doctor stalked off, leaving Owen staring after him.

He seemed to remember that the rift that Gwyneth had closed had been in an underground crematorium some streets away. It was now a trendy wine bar and the cellar had been converted to a storage centre. The owner looked askance at the man who had wandered in brandishing a certificate from the Health and Safety board and asked to see the cellar.

"Is there a problem, love?" she said in a very strong Welsh accent. "Only we've not had any trouble here before."

"No," the Doctor said absently as he waved the sonic screwdriver over one wall. "I'm sure this place used to be bigger."

He stepped back and regarded the wall. It was a good few metres closer than he remembered. In fact this whole room was so much smaller. There used to be an archway just over there about ten metres through the wall. It was where Gwyneth had helped the Gelth to come through and, he turned, over there was where he and Rose had hidden from the Zombies.

The room was a good half size smaller.

"My granda' used to say that before it was bombed, this pub and next door were joined, see. Then they separated it into two, a pub and a bakery. Well, after the next war the bakery was done in and they decided to use to the site to lay pipes for the Millennium Centre. Sometimes you can still 'ear strange knocking from there. Granda' said it were haunted." She laughed out loud. "But the nice gentleman from the tourist shop tells me when they've been doing maintenance down there. Lovely fella. Sometimes he comes in here for a drink, brings 'is mates, too."

"Great." The Doctor bit his lip. There was definitely something he was missing here. Why build the Millennium Centre just there, right where the rift was?

"His friends are a bit weird too, coming all hours of the day and night." Volunteered the lady, happy to have someone to listen to her chatter.

"Hmm." And what pipes would you need under a centre that big? Drainage, sure. But enough to take up that much room?

"—in one second they're off again, really weird lot. But then he is American, so what can you expect? But that girl is a sweetheart. I've had her in here before she joined up, you know. She stopped a nasty brawl. Not that we brawl often, mind. But she was a cracker."

"Yes," added the Doctor, only half listening at this point.

Maybe they were foundations for the fountain, that huge structure everyone adored. Rose had told him off when he suggested paddling in it that time. He tapped the wall.

"—course, the paper boy won't deliver there, says Ianto gives him the creeps and the pizza boy is just as bad—"

No, there was defiantly residual energy here. Pipes wouldn't give off that much energy.

"—blathering about some arrogant doctor ordering under Torchwood and then that nice girl looking for them and his mam said—"

Maybe the answer was underground. Maybe he was looking at this from a different angle. He'd need to get inside the Millennium centre and try to see if they had a basement. Shouldn't be too difficult.

"—so she stopped 'im boozing. Not a might before time, I told 'er I did that if he didn't stop he'd end up on the dole and just hangin' out in Splott and disappearing like them other boys did."

"Right!" the Doctor turned with a bright smile. "Everything seems to be in order. I can let myself out."

He nodded politely to the woman who was somewhat taken aback as he marched past her and vanished out the door.

Five seconds later he ducked back in. "Sorry, did you say Torchwood?"


	4. Chapter 3

The Darkness within

**Chapter 3**

Ianto looked up as a young man in a dark leather jacket strode into the shop like he owned it, his presence commanding and his aura one of power and decisiveness.

The leather-clad man offered a brief grin and started to browse the shop, flicking through postcards of interesting places to visit.

Ianto was in a somewhat good mood since Owen had stormed in here ten minutes ago in a bad one, muttering about mad men and stupid mobile phones. Anything that made Owen upset improved Ianto's day by a hundred-fold.

It wasn't that he disliked the obnoxious little shite. It was that he loathed and detested his condescending attitude and general air of arrogance and superiority. Ianto took great pleasure in annoying the man as much possible and anything that pissed off Owen, made Ianto's day that little bit brighter. Petty, maybe, but definitely fun.

Ianto smiled at the man, inwardly thinking that he looked a little too nerdy to pull off the biker look.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Just looking, thanks," he said, eyes flitting around the place quickly sizing it up and taking in every detail.

Ianto felt a flash of unease as the man's eyes stayed a beat too long on the hidden door.

"Are you just visiting Wales? I can recommend some good spots, places of interest, local colour."

The man glanced over his shoulder before flicking through the tour guides on display. "Bit of an odd place to have a tourist shop isn't it? Bit out of the way."

"It's for people who are lost," Ianto said calmly, wondering if this man with the northern accent was indeed lost or if he was fishing for something.

"Oh, don't mind me, love places like this I do. Fantastic little shops tucked out of the way of the public. Innocuous, inconspicuous. There was a great one in Victorian London, shut down after the Ripper, of course. Made finding those out of place places a bit more dangerous with him around." He looked over at Ianto who just stared back unruffled. "See, I'm a big one for things that are hidden. Out of the way."

Okay, Ianto thought, if he wasn't crazy, then he was at least disconcerting enough that Ianto wanted back-up. Ianto's hand drifted down to the panic button under his desk which was linked directly to his boss's desk. One flash and Jack would come running … which was quite appropriate now he thought about it.

"Nothing hidden here, sir. Perhaps I could interest you in a guide book of Wales. Tenby is quite nice if you like walks. Welsh castles, some of them had hidden dungeons, secret passages."

The Doctor felt a smirk edge around his face. "Oh, I love a secret passage."

"That's my line."

The Doctor spun on his heel and his world tilted on its axis as a man came through the beaded curtain.

"Jack?"

Jack Harkness leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his blaster in his hand. "Hello, Doctor."

The Doctor stared for a long moment at a man he never expected to see again, and then slipped his hands into his leather pockets, regarding him silently.

Jack tucked his blaster back into his belt. "When Owen came in moaning about some guy with a blue box and a buzzing pen, I knew it had to be you. Either that, or Cardiff's gotten a lot stranger in the past 24 hours."

"Doctor Owen Harper?" The Doctor scoffed. "That prat? Knew he had to work for you."

"'Work' is a bit of an over-statement," Ianto muttered and Jack smirked at the butler-esque man.

The Doctor was more concerned with the man in front of him, however, and regarded Jack steadily, an edge of curiosity creeping into his voice. "How—"

"Did I know it was you?" Jack interrupted. "Archive footage from the Canary Wharf battle was sent over here months ago."

"Actually I was gonna go with; how did you get in a tourist booth in Wales? But yours works too."

"_Months?" _the internal Doctor questioned_. "How can it have been months? We left Donna at Christmas. It can't be much past that."_

"What's all this 'we' stuff?" he shot back quietly. "I wasn't there. But it is a point, when are we?"

"_Nice to know I inherited my piloting skills from a reliable source," _came the scathing retort.

"Oh, and I was the one who dumped Rose on a Space station alone, was I?"

"_Twelve hours, twelve months. What's a year between family?"_

The Doctor bit his lip and wished he had the time to go into his own head and punch his future self.

Jack straightened, a dark cloud passing over his eyes, unaware of the Doctors internal struggle. "I saw everything that happened with Yvonne Hartman and Torchwood 1."

"There's more than one Torchwood?" the Doctor said quietly, almost to himself.

Jack merely snorted. "Course. Alien menace all over England, think one is gonna cut it? You're in the Charter, you know that? Pissed off Queen Victoria; not your smartest move, Doc."

"Regeneration's been rough," he said smoothly, his mind ticking away. "So you're here, under the Millennium Centre. I'm guessin' that makes you Torchwood, Cardiff?"

"Right in one." Jack was distracted as his eyes flickered over the Doctor. "Hey, what's with the retro look? I thought pin-stripes were in this year?"

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "People change."

"I'll say." Jack's voice was cold even as his eyes drifted over the Doctor's new form in a heated way.

The Doctor had always ignored Jack's blatant innuendos and flirtation, knowing that, although Jack had a far more flexible attitude to multiple partners, Rose had no such flexibility. If he dared do anything with Jack it would ruin anything he could have with Rose. He had governed himself to not react to the come-ons, despite being vaguely interested. This body had had no such inoculation against Jack's charms and he felt an uncomfortable blush fighting its way over his cheeks.

Ianto suddenly cleared his throat; bring Jack back to the present.

"Forgot my manners. Ianto Jones, this is the Doctor, Doctor this is Ianto. He's a genius at making coffee. Actually, Ianto, could you fix that whilst I show the Doctor around?"

Ianto took the hint. "Yes, sir."

"Prefer tea, thanks," the Doctor said. "Milk, two sugars."

"I can do that." Ianto added smoothly. "Provided of course that you continue to annoy Owen."

"That," said Jack as the Doctor followed him through the beaded curtain, "is pretty much a given."

The Doctor followed Jack down into the depths of Torchwood, actively not watching the deliberately seductive sway of his hips. His brain was on full overdrive dealing with the ramifications of Jack's being alive and here; part of Torchwood.

"_Jack, part of Torchwood?" _The Doctor straightened as his future self perked up.

"Yeah," he mumbled internally. "How 'bout that?"

"_Torchwood is the reason I lost, Rose." _His voice was low, hurt and angry and the Doctor watched the familiar head in front of him as he opened a sealed room.

"Torchwood exists because you were too damn cocky," he challenged his future self. "You pissed off Queen Victoria with your arrogance and Rose paid for that. Don't blame Jack for that when you forgot him."

Inside his head the new Doctor fell silent, chastened.

While he relished the silence, the older Doctor also felt somewhat ashamed by his lack of attention to Jack's predicament. To be honest he had been too preoccupied with Rose, Bad Wolf, and his painful regeneration to realise that Jack was still alive. He'd heard the Dalek ray and Jack's final words and he assumed him dead.

By the time his future self had sat down to commemorate Jack's memory and realised that he was still alive, Jack was irrecoverably intertwined with the time line and couldn't be removed. So the new Doctor had just left him, letting him think he was abandoned by those who claimed to love him.

Another point of contention against the pretty boy; it was all mounting up.

Jack peered over at the quiet man trailing behind him, wondering where the ebullient man of the Canary Wharf tapes had gone. That man seemed to have no lack of things to say, talking nineteen-to-the-dozen at all times, whereas this one seemed to be more like the Doctor he remembered; quiet and watchful.

"You okay, Doc?"

"I will be when you stop calling me that," he replied absently and Jack grinned. That was more like it.

"Sure thing, Doc."

The Doctor would have commented on that with force and volume but he was caught by the fact that they had arrived in Torchwood central. Jack beamed over his shoulder as he pushed a button and the circular doorway in front of them rolled away showing teeth, like a great cog blocking their way. "Welcome to the Hub."

It was not how he imagined it. The Doctor had seen the London branch and equated all Torchwoods with the same pristine lines and smooth operation masking a diabolical cold-hearted determination and a patriotism that bordered on psychosis.

This was nothing like that. The Torchwood of Cardiff was more economical, built along lines of necessity and not aesthetics.

London had been all white walls and clean cut corners; Cardiff was rough stone and dark, damp dreary lighting.

London had been mean and greedy; Cardiff seemed to be empty and industrious.

The stench of water filled the Doctor's sensitive nose and he looked up to the huge column that sat in the centre of the Hub, stretching to the sky like a crystal temple, water cascading down its sides in a liquid profusion of waves. As his eyes drifted from the beautiful aquatic feature he saw something drift in front and allowed his mouth to drop slightly at the Pterodactyl as it soared by.

"Pterodactyl are not exactly native to Cardiff," he managed and Jack laughed.

"Yeah, it's a pet, now. C'mon, meet the guys."

There were at least four work-stations that he could see; two manned by women staring at computers and holding paper files. Another had computers winking away, flashing information faster than any human eye could cope with, and the final station had—

"Oi, Harkness, when I said there was a prat on our emergency exit, I didn't mean for you to bring 'im in 'ere! Or are we open to charity cases now?" The pouty faced man the Doctor had encountered outside was glaring over the top of another work station, pen in his mouth and white lab coat casually thrown over the back of his chair.

Owen sat up, still talking. "I mean, I thought this was a secret establishment, yeah? First of all we get Polly the Policewoman—" he glanced over his shoulder to one of the women, "—no offence."

"And yet still offended," she shot back.

"Now what? I thought there was a 'No Civilians' zone."

"But you obviously have an open door policy on morons." The Doctor shook his head in exasperation as he turned to Jack. "Where did you pick this one up?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Jack swallowed his amusement. "Owen Harper, you've met. This is Gwen Cooper; she's a policewoman on the side, useful to have liaisons with the local PD."

Owen snorted at the double entendre while the Doctor rolled his eyes and then focused on the dark-haired woman who was watching him curiously. "Hello!" he said jovially. "Is it Sergeant Gwen Cooper?"

"No," she said with a strong Welsh accent, "Just P.C, never made it that far before getting caught up with this lot. Far more exciting."

"And dangerous," the Doctor added, suddenly frowning. "Have I seen you before?"

Gwen blinked. "No, I don't think so. Unless you've had run ins with the Cardiff constabulary?"

"Not in the last hundred years," the Doctor offered and then turned to the other woman. "Hello."

"This is Doctor Toshiko Sato, she …"

"We've met."

Jack was wrong-footed. "What?"

Toshiko, herself, looked a little confused. "No, we haven't."

"Yes we have, Albian Hospital, few years ago." He beamed. "We dissected a pig together."

Tosh blinked at him, her cute face scrunched in bewilderment. "You can't be."

"Damn Military shot it, just when you were getting to the heart of it all, found you in the lab covered in blood. Just before the bomb hit Downing Street."

Toshiko's mouth dropped open. "But you look completely different, Doctor."

"Regeneration," he replied ruefully, sticking his hands into his pockets. "My whole body changes when it gets close to death, it's a Time Lord trick."

Tosh's eyes opened wide. "Fascinating."

Jack's amazed gaze fell between Tosh and the Doctor. "Wait, you guys know each other and you never mentioned it? Never dropped into conversation the tiny fact that you knew the Doctor?"

"I thought he'd died in the explosion in Downing Street along with UNIT," Tosh defended. "Besides, you never asked."

"So, what do you think of this body then," the Doctor asked idly. "Too pretty, isn't it? Preferred the old me, had more character. This one's too generic, don't you think?""

"_Oi!"_

Tosh didn't know what to say. "Well, I don't really—"

"It's okay," The Doctor added, feeling the new Doctor getting more riled up. "Skinny streak of piss. This regeneration looks a bit like a weasel. I'm not impressed."

"_You're not exactly a picture, yourself."_

"And it's not ginger."

"_That's right, rub it in."_

"I kinda like it," Jack said, eyeing the body.

"You once flirted with a Bavarian Flaxen Bug," he said with a shudder. "You have no taste."

"Wait, let me get this straight," Owen Harper interrupted. "Torchwood charter, yeah. Foundation 1879; This Great British Institute exists to protect the boundaries of Greater Britain blah blah blah against enemies from other worlds to stop their heretical and blasphemous interference yada yada yada oh, yeah and especially from the Doctor and his companion who are enemies of the Crown."

Everyone was looking at him.

Tosh broke first. "_You_ read the charter?"

"You can read?" the Doctor was less impressed, folding his arms across his chest defensively.

Owen glowered. "The Doctor as in this bloke here? Number one enemy of Torchwood and you bring him in for coffee?"

"Tea, actually," Ianto interjected smoothly as he entered with a tray perfectly aligned with mugs of tea, coffee and a plate of biscuits. "Two sugars and milk."

"Thanks." The Doctor took the tea with a smirk at Owen's infuriated face.

"No problem." Ianto hid his own grin at Owen's evident displeasure and hoped the Doctor would stay for quite a while.

"So, we're giving enemies of the Crown tea and a tour?" Owen spat and Jack jumped.

"That's right, you've not seen everything." Jack grabbed his own mug with a devoted smile at Ianto and gestured around the Hub. "This is Torchwood's base of operation in Cardiff. Basically we run alongside the rift and as such we get all the fall out of the space time crap that drifts in. We track it, ascertain if it's dangerous and deal with it either way." He sounded so proud.

"Look at you," the Doctor said sarcastically, "policing time. Still."

Jack's face fell a little and the Doctor cursed his big mouth. He'd still not learnt to control that part of him.

"Yeah, well, it's like what you do but on a smaller scale." He looked away.

"_Nice one, Mr. Sensitive."_

"It's not me that left Jack all alone without any idea what happened or even how to get off the Satellite. Time Lords who live in glass houses and all that."

The truth was that he was proud of Jack and all he'd achieved; from scamming Time Agents to leading Torchwood and the human race into the twenty-first century. From con-man to hero in next to no time. It was amazing really.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Nah, s'good work, here, Jack. I'm impressed."

"Yeah?" Jack seemed to search for approval and found it, standing that little bit taller. "We do our best and I've got a _great_ team."

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Owen groused.

Jack reconsidered. "Okay, it's a g_ood_ team."

But the Doctor was miles away. "So, the rift is still active then?"

"Yeah." Jack shoved his hands into his pockets. "It was pretty quiet for a while, but occasionally things still slipped through, Weevils and whatever. After the Battle of Canary Wharf, though, we've been getting all sorts. Resurrection gloves and space debris, broken bits of ships and shuttles, even had half a Tyranium garbage terrain vehicle come through."

"We only figured what it was after one of us had waded through it." Ianto smirked and Owen flushed bright red.

The Doctor laughed at the thought of desiccated and mouldy food scraps from the junk food capital of the universe. "Ooh nasty."

"But the magnetic pull, the rift energy has been attracting all sorts of attention. Cardiff is alien central, Doctor. And I mean all sorts; we've had fairies and squid and political prisoners and all kinda crap. It's getting worse." Jack was intent on the Doctor now. "It's getting much worse and the human race is not ready."

The Doctor folded his arms. "It'll have to get ready, Jack. You know as well as I do that the twenty-first century is when it all happens."

"When what happens?" Tosh asked intrigued about the subtext clearly being exchanged between the two men.

"Contact, between human and alien," Jack explained. "The twenty-first century is when humans accept that aliens exist."

"But they don't, do they?" Owen said with a deep sarcastic vein. "I mean half the idiots we save are brushed off with swamp gas and student prank excuses."

"But you accept aliens." The Doctor watched Owen carefully.

"We've seen 'em."

"And the big ship hanging over London during Christmas? Sycorax invading, half the population ready to jump? Star in the sky shooting at the city? Cybermen and Daleks fighting?" The Doctor was getting louder and more annoyed. "Bloody stupid apes. Ignore anything you don't understand even when it's staring you right in the face."

Gwen frowned. "You talk like you're not human."

"I'm not."

"You look human."

The Doctor put his head on the side and regarded her steadily. "Do I?"

Gwen looked deeply into the brown eyes that looked so very old, eyes that had watched star systems die and loved ones fall, eyes that had watched the Earth become nothing and witnessed—_caused_—the genocide of his own people, and suddenly she wasn't so sure. He radiated danger and her eyes slid away from his as ice crept through her veins. She bit her lip and looked to Jack for direction.

"The Doctor is unique, but no, he's not human," he clarified.

"So, what are you then?" Owen asked.

"Would you know it even if I told you?" The Doctor was getting annoyed at all the constant questions. He'd never liked to be second guessed, even by his own people and he wasn't about to allow some stupid ape barely out of the trees with delusions of grandeur interrogate him.

"And what about your companion, then?" Owen pushed, realising that he wasn't going to answer. "Mentioned in the charter. Doctor and companion."

That was more like it, this was the reason he was here.

"Her name is Rose." The Doctor straightened and turned to face Jack. "And she's the reason I'm here."

Jack looked sad and the expression added centuries to his face, making the Doctor wonder exactly what was up with Jack and how long he'd been here. "I saw the footage of Canary Wharf, Doctor. I know she's gone."

Gone. Gone as in can never come back, gone as in not there any more. Gone as in _Gone._

The Doctor reached out a hand subconsciously, searching for a soft palm to ease his pain.

But she was gone.

His fist clenched.

There was darkness in his expression, a deep fathomless, pitiless pain that dwarfed all other emotions until the deep blue gaze was perceptibly not human, and definitely not sane. The four humans staring at him had never felt so in the presence of an alien, even when they stood in front of a Weevil with its twisted features. Right now, even that speechless monstrosity was less of a danger than the Doctor.

He turned to Jack. "You're going to help me get her back," he said, both his tone and expression clearly stating that, even if Jack were to disagree, there was no way in hell he was taking no for an answer.


	5. Chapter 4

The Darkness within

**Chapter 4**

There was a silence following the Doctor's declaration, one punctuated with hesitation, astonishment, and, in two instances, confusion.

"What?" Owen, as ever, was the first to regain his power of speech.

"It's not brain science," the Doctor snapped. "Rose Tyler, I want her back."

Jack gaped. "But she fell into the Void, I saw it. She's on the list of the dead."

Three voices spoke simultaneously.

"What's the Void?"

"Who's Rose Tyler?"

"She's not dead." The Doctor's voice cut above them all. "You didn't see it all, Jack."

"Then where is she?" Jack demanded. "It's been months since Canary Wharf. Even the damn star above London at Christmas was weeks ago. If you could have had her back you would done it already. Because I know you, Doctor. Rose was always your number one priority and you wouldn't let her go this long without even trying to get to her if you could. She means more to you than that; always did," he added ruefully.

The Doctor swallowed hard and looked away for the first time in the conversation. Jack's words bit at him, because they were true.

Had they been separated on some planet somewhere he wouldn't have waited until Donna was safe before tracking down Rose, instead he'd have taken Donna along for the ride and sorted her mess out afterwards. If they'd been in danger Rose would have been his first priority.

And yet … he remembered when his first priority had been cooling fans and women made of wood. He remembered when his first priority had been ridding the world of one single Dalek to the entrapment and destruction of the woman he loved. He remembered when his first priority had been keeping the TARDIS away from enemy hands and he remembered the look in her eyes when she stared at him regenerating—betrayal, hurt and worry.

So many times he'd failed Rose Tyler.

But not now and never again.

He lifted his head to fix dark brown eyes on Jack. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Everyone could feel the chill and power in the room as those words resounded and Jack made the only choice he could.

After admonishing his team to get back to work, Jack led the Doctor up to his office and set about fixing up the projection unit. The Doctor sat with his long legs under the ornate mahogany table as Jack flicked up the office blinds to shield the tape from his eagle-eyed team.

"I was assigned to Torchwood years ago, but had no idea what Torchwood London was doing. The whole ghost shift thing was as much a surprise to me as it was everyone, Yvonne Hartman was a real piece of work. Devoted but delusional."

"And dangerous," the Doctor added with a nod. "Most fanatics are."

Jack eyed him. "Anyway, not long after the Canary Wharf mess I asked for all surveillance tapes to be sent to me to check over. Gave me quite a shock when I saw the new you, gotta say. Took years off you."

"And IQ points," the Doctor mumbled.

Jack pushed a tape into the machine and sat on the edge of the table, near the Doctor's hip. "Tapes A through C have Yvonne Hartman's tour through the facility, ending at the lower lab where the Ark was held. Genesis Ark, right? Some witness who survived said the Doctor called it a prison ship, containing Daleks."

The Doctor fought the urge to twitch at the name and nodded calmly. "My people built the prison ship and it must have ended up in the Void; when Torchwood opened the rift it was pulled through."

That brief sentence betrayed nothing of the sheer abundance of emotions that the scene brought up.

Even watching through someone else eyes, he'd felt the fear and fury as his old enemies were brought back into reality. He'd felt hatred bubble and burn inside him and cursed at the new Doctor's lack of action; sending them back into the Void wasn't enough—he wanted them destroyed—erased from existence.

Destroyed, like his people. Devastated, like his heart. Shattered, like his world. Damaged, like his psyche.

He wanted them to pay; he wanted them to hurt, to bleed, to suffer, to scream.

Dead, gone, annihilated.

_**Exterminated**_.

Jack interrupted his train of thought. "Well, the tapes stop short of the lab, no cameras due to security, but I did pull off everything that happened on the ghost shift floor." He paused. "These are the final moments I have. Are you sure you wanna see this?"

See it?

He'd been trapped inside the head of an arrogant, head-strong arse and had to watch while the love of his life hurtled towards oblivion. He'd had to stand by as the new Doctor repeated his mistakes and tried to send Rose away and could do nothing, but scream inside his prison in impotent rage. Instead of keeping her by his side and ensuring her safety, the new him had sent her away—again—and forced her to prove how devoted she was by making her own way back to him. Again. Rose Tyler had stood by his side as he did the ridiculous to save the universe.

Only this time he couldn't regenerate to save her, this time there was no TARDIS to hold her or final reprieve. This time he lost.

See it? He'd lived it.

He braced himself. "Just play it."

Jack hit the play button and the screen flared to life with the worst moment of the Doctor's life.

Okay, one of the worst moments.

He watched, like he'd watched before, as Rose backed away from her family, declaring her intentions to stay with him, no matter what. His fists clenched as the new Doctor slipped the big yellow button over her neck and pushed it down, sending her away from him.

But his Rose wouldn't allow that, not again, and she came back, staring him down and telling him that she'd made her decision and that she was never going to leave.

_Oh Rose._

Rose pressed buttons and followed his lead and laughed with him, asking for a smile as they engaged the mega-clamps and started up the ghost shift, sucking the Daleks and Cybermen into the Void.

His stomach churned as he knew what was coming next and suddenly he wanted to see it all, wanted to know why and how and who.

"Stop!" He snatched the remote from Jack's hand and was out of his seat before Jack could even respond to the yell.

He froze the image and clicked it a frame forward, slowing down the final seconds to heart beats. Another frame forward and then another and another—and there it was.

One frame showed it as clear as day; an eyepiece protruding from his greatest nemesis, just at the wrong angle—or the right angle to cause the Doctor pain.

"The edge of the Dalek just clips the lever." The hollow voice echoing through the room was his own. "See, there. Just one slight nudge."

He flicked it forward a frame and the Dalek clipped the lever, knocking it from its secure post to drift down where Rose would—

He pressed play again and the images sped up: the lever slipping, Rose reaching out for it as it started to slide, his own panic and fear as she grasped for it, elation and pride as she pushed it into its upright position and locked it.

Then the gut-wrenching, stomach-churning fear as she started to slip.

The tape would play out the way it always did in his nightmares, nightmares that had him shaking and sweating and trembling and screaming at it all to be a dream, a illusion, a mere trick of the mind. It always ended with him awakening in another's mind, dripping in sweat and begging for another chance.

This time he found himself wishing, praying, for a different ending as the blonde girl on screen started to fall.

"Don't let go," he whispered as she did just that.

Rose hurtled towards the wall, being sucked in by the vast nothingness, going straight to hell. There was a flash of light and she was gone.

The picture went still as the Doctor stopped the tape, staring blankly at the spot where Rose had been.

Eight seconds.

Eight seconds and one last look as she slipped away from him; stolen by her father like a faery changeling, leaving a hole where his heart used to be.

Had she been able to hold on for just ten more seconds then they'd be together still. Had she been able to hold on for ten more seconds he'd be holding her.

Gone.

His fingers touched her image on the screen, feeling instead the cold unyielding hardness of a blank wall; a wall which separated him from all he'd ever wanted.

"No one comes back from the Void, Doctor."

He'd forgotten Jack was in the room.

"She's not in the Void. That flash was Pete, her dad from another universe jumping in to save her. She's alive, but in another universe."

Jack's voice was openly sceptical. "Her dad from another universe just happened to drop in at the exact time and place he was needed in time to stop her dying? Isn't that kinda, I don't know, convenient?"

His attitude grated and the Doctor shot him an icy glare over his shoulder. "I came to Cardiff looking for a way through the rift and found someone I thought was long dead who just happens to be in exactly the right place and time and can help me get through the rift. Convenient?"

"Design." Jack amended. "I've been waiting for you, Doctor. I knew you'd need to power up the TARDIS again eventually and this was the most likely place I knew."

The Doctor turned and folded his arms. "Why wait for me? And how did you get here anyway?"

Jack's eyes went dark. "You want the short version or the long?"

"Give me the short, I'm on a schedule."

The terseness of the phrase with its bitter sarcasm had Jack standing straighter, almost to attention as he delivered his next few words.

"Satellite Five, I woke up just as you guys dematerialised. I saw you go, figured you thought was dead. Thanks for burying my body, by the way," he added sarcastically with no little undercurrent of pain. His hands clenched and his jaw tightened. "I went back to Earth and helped clean up, then called in a few favours and managed to hitch a ride to the twentieth century. Hung around a while before getting picked up by Torchwood." He spread his arms in an ironic bow. "Here I am."

That was so abridged it didn't even count as a summary and the Doctor could see the truth of that in his eyes. He could see stretched before him all the things that Jack didn't say.

He didn't mention that everyone else on the Satellite had also been dead and he'd woken to a ghost ship and had to find his own way back to Earth. He didn't recount the hours he'd wandered amidst the corpses, smelling the scent of charred flesh and not knowing what had happened on Earth below, as he waited for a rescue that he didn't know would come. He didn't speak of the tears and relief as, finally, a broadcast was answered and someone was able to come and bring him back to an Earth that he didn't recognise; an Earth almost totally decimated from the Dalek attack with a stench of blood and death that hung from everything. He didn't talk about the bodies that littered the ground and the destruction of civilisation. He didn't bring up the grime and sweat and pain and tears and regret and agony and madness, and yet the Doctor felt them all in the words he didn't say.

"I'm so sorry, Jack."

Jack shrugged. "I survived." He met the Doctor's gaze in anger, accusation seeping through as he dislodged a bitter pill. "And then I couldn't help surviving. Ever been shot, Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Fatally?"

"Yes."

"Me too, straight through the frontal lobes." Jack pointed to his forehead. "Bang, brain matter all over the shop. Twenty seconds later, nothing. Ever been hung?"

"Yes."

"Me too, asphyxiation's really not the way to go. Drowning, that was fun, felt like a bath. Electric shock; hurts like hell. Cyberman—woman attack took a little longer but hey back on my feet in a minute. Dalek Ray, washes right off. Old age? I wish."

His voice got louder and louder. "Slashed wrists, booze and pills, gun shot, taser, laser, blaster, gassing, nothing, nothing, nothing!" He screamed, his fists slamming onto the table top with an audible crack.

"You can't die." The Doctor voice was matter-of-fact but he felt anything but; the horror of that kind of life coming to him in Technicolor surround sound.

Life was about circumventing death and cramming living into each second; to know that those seconds would never end and that nothing you did would make your endless existence less futile was horrific.

Jack gave a bark of macabre amusement. "Got it in one. Do you know what it's like to actually be immortal, Doctor? Nothing fazes you, nothing can touch you." His eyes darkened, turning bitter and cold as his voice lowered to a numb hiss. "But with each death you become a little more hollow and little more empty. Until one day you wake up and there are two hundred candles on your cake and you left your heart in a million pieces on a godforsaken space trash heap five million years in the future. You're not human anymore, you don't know what you are; except alone."

Abandoned by those he loved, forced to live a life he didn't want and couldn't end and doing it alone, with no comprehension of how or why or how long.

The Doctor felt a wave of pity and sickness slide over his skin.

_Oh, Jack._

Jack wrenched himself out of his seat and strode over to the other side of the table, his hands braced on the edge of the wooden furniture so hard the Doctor could almost hear his nails dig in. Jack bowed his head.

"Just tell me, Doctor. What am I?"

The Doctor folded his arms and stared compassionately at Jack. "I don't know."

Jack laughed bitterly. "What the hell happened to me? I can't die, I can't live. I'm stuck in hell." His eyes widened as he rounded on the Doctor. "I just go on and on and on like that damn bunny advert, never stopping but with no emotion except longing."

Haunted eyes pleaded with the Doctor. "I wanna die. I'm done."

This wasn't Jack. This was some shell of the Jack that the Doctor had known. This man was drifting through an existence that he didn't want and couldn't handle, almost walking through it like a ghost. His lethargy was a palpable spectre in the room and the Doctor knew that Jack needed to be shaken out of it in order to continue, so that he didn't become empty and hard.

The Doctor swallowed, hating himself. "I know what you are."

"What?" desperation coloured his voice.

"A whinger."

Jack blinked, his jaw dropping. "What?"

"A whinger. Whiner. Moaner. Ingrate." The Doctor sighed and pursed his lips. "Most people'd give an arm to have immortality and yet you complain. Captain Complainer. That's you. Ask a hundred apes if they wanna live forever and they'd say yes."

Jack's mouth was around floor level as the Doctor continued.

"But no, not our Jack. This precious gift of life is a burden." He shook his head as Jack's eyes bugged. "I figured you for better than that, Jack. Give you eternal life and you sit and moan, doing bugger all."

"I've been doing a helluva lot more'n that!" Jack's accent came through strong and thick as his temper soared. "I fought my way to Earth, I practically resurrected this goddamn planet dump hole with no more'n a shovel and my bare hands. I fought my way back to the twenty-first century and set up as one of the few organisations to help humans to cope with contact an' you stand there and tell me that I've done nothing?"

Jack's eyes all but bulged in disbelief, veins throbbed in his head and he grabbed at the chair by his side, picking it up and throwing it across the room. The Doctor barely flinched as it shattered against the door.

"Bastard!" Jack bellowed.

"That all you got, cry baby?"

Jack's hands went to his belt and he cursed as the Doctor hid a grin.

"What?"

"Where the hell's my blaster? I wanna shoot you."

The Doctor smirked. "So you do want something."

Jack stilled. "What?"

"There's that fire, Captain Jack. That's life." He inclined his head at the fuming, furious and gloriously alive man. "You've been allowed to wallow in self pity for far too long and now that I'm here you have a chance at life, and yeah, death again."

Jack could feel fire coursing through his veins, anger and fury resonating in his heart, he felt ire and hurt and … alive. He gaped at the Doctor. "You pissed me off to make me wanna kill you."

"Yep."

"And that's your idea of therapy?"

"Oi, at least I'm not charging. Could though. I was taught by Freud himself. Great man, had a weird thing about his mother though."

Jack shook his head in patent disbelief. "Only you could use a death threat as catharsis."

The Doctor suddenly turned sober. "I will fix you, Jack. I'll find out what happened and I'll help. But you have to help me too."

"Rose." Jack said faintly, unable to believe that the Doctor had just shaken him out of his lethargy.

"Rose," the Doctor affirmed.

Jack scratched the back of his head and looked away. "What happened on Satellite five, Doc? You sent Rose away and started the Delta wave and I got shot, next thing I know you're a different guy and you have Rose back. What gives?"

"Rose," the Doctor said again a mixture of frustration, anguish and awe in his voice. He turned away from Jack's inquiring glance and picked up a small glass ornament off the table, it was an odd twisted structure, probably some art-deco thing that no one ever understood. Unfathomable and fragile. He stared at the prisms of glass and stroked the smooth plains with his fingers.

He continued, almost absently. "Rose looked into the heart of the TARDIS and the TARDIS returned the favour. She came back to the station and killed the Daleks—or so we thought—atomised them. Scattered their particles through time and space and she did it for me."

"What?"

The Doctor bit down on his lip as he stared at the glass screens that separated Jack's office from the rest of Torchwood, his fingers twirling the glass figurine in his hands. "She did it for me, to keep me safe. My Doctor, she called me that and I was, I _am_. Rose Tyler; shop girl ends the Time War by blasting the Emperor of the Daleks to eternity and she did it for me!" His hands clenched in utter helplessness and anger, his mind lost in the past.

"Doctor."

"I told her to run. I put her in constant danger but when she had the chance to escape she came straight back to stand by my side." He spun to face Jack, not really seeing the pale-faced man in his anger. "She could have died, melted from the brain inwards. The Vortex could have done anything and she didn't care. Then I changed into him and she still stayed with me, through it all. Through French tarts and cats, black holes and heartache and now she's lost. Lost in another universe where she didn't want to be and she's not staying there. I won't let her."

"Doctor." Jack had seen preoccupation in all its forms but this fixation the Doctor had on Rose was blinding him to what was really happening and he tried to warn him, his tone a caution. But the Doctor could only hear Jack repeating his name and he took that caution as disapproval.

He snarled at the perceived censure. "I've paid, Jack. I lost everything, my planet, my people, my home, my family, my friends. Don't I deserve _something_? I save the world, I save the universe, hell I saved two universes, destroyed Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans, Slitheen, Zarbi, scourges of the universe!"

"Doctor, your hand." Jack finally managed to spit out the words he'd been too horrified to speak and the Doctor looked down to the crushed glass in his hand as blood spilled through his fingers. He opened his hand and shards sprinkled across his palm, coated in slick red liquid glistening like rubies in the fluorescent light. He clenched his fist, relishing the bite as the fragments bit into his flesh, blood oozing from cuts, reminding him that pain was life.

He looked up and locked gazes with Jack; the hunter meeting the hunted. "The universe owes me."

Jack swallowed at the darkness swirling in his eyes.

"And I intend to collect."


	6. Chapter 5

The Darkness within

**Chapter 5**

Jack Harkness was scared of very little. Even before his apparent immortality, his upbringing and subsequent conscription into the Time Agency had made him immune to the usual fears that plagued mankind, even advanced as they were. He had never been afraid of the dark, or monsters, or bugs and beasties and now even death held no fear for him.

He had never really been scared of people either, only what they could do, and, as he stood in front of the Doctor whose blood poured from his hand as his face twisted in sadistic delight, Jack felt that small frisson of fear of possibilities, of capabilities, of one who had so much power … and so little left to lose.

Rose had always been the Doctor's weakness and from the first moment he had laid eyes on him, Jack had known that the Doctor would willingly die for the blonde human. He'd accepted that and even come to understand it to some measure, by the innocence and sweet naivety of the girl. She exuded an innocence and sweet naivety that drew men in and made them tremble.

But this determination to get to her, this intense resolve that he cross worlds to reach her was bordering on an infatuated foolishness that made Jack's insides grow cold and wrench in apprehension.

It seemed that his regeneration had deepened his desire for Rose to a precarious level.

A Twenty-third century philosopher had remarked: _ What madness lies within, that genius in all its logic can be felled by need._

For the first time, Jack understood those words. All of the Doctor's genius and intelligence were overcome by his need for one girl and it had driven him to this; to trying to circumvent nature and bend the laws of time and space to the breaking point.

In most it would be called madness, but with the Doctor's power he could actually do it—and that was even more dangerous.

Jack bit down on his lip in unconscious anxiety as his mind whirled, trying to come up with a plan.

"Jack," the Doctor said, breaking into his reverie with a low tone. "I'm not asking."

"But you know how risky this is?" Jack tried with bravado. "C'mon, Doc. Rose was one hell of a gal but breaching the rift?"

The Doctor leaned back against the table and stared hard at Jack. Jack felt the skin on the back of his neck crawl—he wondered if the Doctor could read his every thought.

"A hell of a gal?" he raised one eyebrow and Jack straightened, refusing to back down.

"Yeah."

The Doctor gave a short laugh, a bitter, hollow sound and he looked down at his folded arms before flickering his gaze up to the waiting Captain.

"_Each of us bears his own hell_."

"Virgil," Jack recognised the quote and the Doctor inclined his head in acquiescence.

"Knew what he was talking about, did old Virgil. Fact of the matter, Captain," the address was laced with scorn, "is that I've had enough of my own personal hell. I want Rose back and I'll do anything to get it."

He turned and walked out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Jack stared after him, icy fingers of foreboding sliding down his spine as he saw the shards of fractured glass littering the carpet. "That's what I'm afraid of."

The Doctor strode out into the main hub of Torchwood and stared at the complicated machine in the centre. "So, what's this then?"

Gwen looked over at him. "Oh, that's one of Jack's pet projects. Had it for a long while. He said it washed up in some sort of rift explosion back in the fifties. Apparently there was such a huge surge that it pulled a space craft into Earth's orbit from nowhere and dropped it in America."

"Roswell," the Doctor nodded.

"A time surge, he called it," Gwen continued in her sweet welsh accent, "made all sorts of things appear."

The Doctor's eyes drifted over the machine. "It was a backlash from a war fought light years away from Earth. You were lucky; some planets that got in the way of that backlash were incinerated. All Earth had to deal with was fall-out."

"How do you know so much?" she asked curiously, but he ignored her.

"This machine was brought through the rift?"

"Far as I can tell," Jack said, coming up behind them, "it's a rift monitor. It sends off transmissions every time there's activity. Past few months, it's been going nuts."

"Well it would," the Doctor added scathingly, "what with Daleks and Cybermen coming through all the time; regular little party." A thought occurred to him. "I suppose you took readings of all the temporal displacements and the energy signatures of each breakthrough."

"Tosh did." Gwen offered and Jack turned to call across the Hub.

"Toshiko?!"

She peered up from pages of calculations and hurried over. "Jack, I've found a random transposition of elements from that diacritic—"

"Yeah, great," Jack interrupted, "call the Daily Mirror. The Doc has a question for ya, Tosh."

"Yes?" Her curious eyes blinked up at the Doctor.

"Miss Sato, you took readings from all the displacements during the Battle of Canary Wharf and the energy signatures, right?"

"Naturally," she said, somewhat baffled.

"So you have the transfer signatures for the place of origin?"

"Yes."

"Let me put this another way," the Doctor looked into the air with a smug look crossing his face. "If we reversed the energy signatures, relayed the readings and retraced the temporal alignment and feed the figures into the rift monitor …"

Her eyes widened as she caught on. "We could pin point the point of origin and—"

"Open the rift back to Pete's world!" the Doctor grinned widely. "Bam, problem solved."

Toshiko frowned. "But to open the rift we'd need a huge source of interstellar energy, maybe even a matter transference monitor and something that could hold the tear in reality open."

The Doctor sniffed and jerked his elbow over his shoulder to the blue box standing not too far away. "Easy. She's got enough residual energy from an overdose of Huon particles and the remnants of a super nova surge. No problem."

"Doctor?" Jack tried in vain to get the Doctor's attention.

"It won't take me long to find the specific co-ordinates," Toshiko said excitedly. "The equations for the machine should be easy to calculate from there."

"Doctor?" Jack spoke up louder, but the Doctor ignored him.

"Good girl, get on that."

"We can reconfigure the monitoring coordinates to synchronise with the data that Toshiko calculates," The Doctor said to Jack. "Then I can use the residual TARDIS energy to open up a small hole in the rift with the use of your machine and Bob's your uncle—instant hole through to Rose's universe."

"Great," Jack's voice was flat.

"I know! It's fantastic." The Doctor beamed brightly and opened his arms wide, as if to embrace the world. "It's more than fantastic, it's … well, it's me so I'm not surprised," he grinned. "Always been a genius, me."

Jack gave a small half-smile. "Yeah. Genius."

"I am," said the Doctor modestly.

"One problem."

"What?" the Doctor demanded testily.

"The machine isn't complete."

The Doctor stilled, triumph draining from his features. "What?"

"I bought it at auction in America, but the collector had already sold a part of it. I could never find out who to. The machine won't work, Doctor. It's pointless."

The Doctor folded his arms across his chest and faced Jack with all the menace at his disposal. "It's not complete?"

Jack refused to waver or back down from the irate Time Lord, despite the annoyance that flickered in his expression that sent unease shooting into Jack's veins. "No."

"Marvellous!" he scoffed and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, suddenly deep in thought.

The ambiance of the Hub had stilled at the same time as the Doctor's enthusiasm and the other members of Torchwood watched in seeming anticipation for this highly acclaimed Doctor to make his next move. Even Owen was oddly silent as the Doctor jammed his hands in his leather pockets and rocked on his heels.

"We have a rift manipulator that we can't use because we don't have all the pieces," he mused aloud.

"Right," Jack echoed.

"Solution," the Doctor paused, staring around, "anyone?"

Gwen shrugged. "Get all the pieces?"

"Right!" the Doctor pointed at her. "Ten points to the Welsh. Right, Jack—where did you buy the manipulator?"

"America."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "It's a big place, Jack. Texas, Tahoe, Colorado, California? Can you narrow it down to a state?"

Jack wasn't as impressed with the Doctor's wit as Owen seemed to be and he glared at his flat-faced assistant. "Hey, Owen, how about you go finish those reports on the latest murders?"

"Oh, I'm fine here," Owen waved his hand and Jack shot an irritated glare at him.

"It wasn't a request."

Owen pouted and jerked his feet off the table, muttering under his breath about abuse of power as he wandered off to the autopsy room in a snit.

"Got that out of your system?" the Doctor asked in amusement at Jack's attempt to reassert his authority with his team in the face of their wavering loyalties to the Doctor.

He was greeted with another belligerent look from Jack who felt somewhat sheepish at the thought that that was exactly what he had been doing.

"A'right, Doc. I was in North America, Utah, when I heard that there was this auction for—"

The Doctor held up a hand with a pained groan. "Tell me, this auction wasn't by any chance hosted by a 'Henry Van Statten', was it?"

"Yeah, actually, it was." Jack frowned at yet more evidence of the Doctor omniscience. "You know him?"

"Know him, tortured by him, wiped his memory … but not yet." The Doctor let loose a smirk. "And not with this face. Well, Jackie boy, looks like we're going to America."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Ye—haw."

Jack's reintroduction to the TARDIS interior had even the super-composed Ianto blushing slightly as he ran his hands over the console and walls, cooing to it like a long lost lover.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "You want a moment alone?"

"Can I?" Jack's eyes glittered.

"No." The Doctor turned his back on the softly laughing Jack, and muttered something like "tart" to the console before turning to the gaping group who stood inside his magnificent time machine. He sighed, hating this part. "Yes?"

"It's—" Owen began.

"—bigger on the inside, yes," the Doctor finished. "Another?"

Gwen closed her mouth. "It's—"

"—alien, yes." The Doctor nodded.

"You're—"

"—alien, yes."

Toshiko shook her head. "She's—"

"—very shiny, yes."

"How—"

"—I'm not telling you."

"But how—"

"You wouldn't understand." He glanced around. "Are we done?"

The four members of Torchwood nodded and clustered together in the room, eyes running greedily over the wonders that the TARDIS held.

The Doctor turned back to Jack and pulled a face. "If that stains, I'll kill you."

Jack held up his hands in feigned innocence. "Can't I even say hello to the girl?"

"It's sentient?" Toshiko wanted to know.

"She," she was corrected by a very impatient Doctor, "and, once again, yes. The TARDIS—which stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space, by the way—is sentient and has feelings and I can tell straight away that she dislikes Owen."

Owen snatched his hand away from the console, looking guilty. "What?"

"So she transcends dimensions? Allowing the insides to be held on a different plane to the outside whilst intrinsically tied to the outer manifestation." Toshiko murmured in appreciation of the machine. "Fascinating."

The Doctor smiled down at the woman in faint approval. He always liked people who liked the TARDIS. "So, we'll be off then."

"This thing, this box," Owen sneered. "Is going to, what? Teleport us to America?"

"No," retorted Jack. "It's going to transport me, Gwen and the Doctor to America. You, Tosh and Ianto need to watch the screens, monitor rift activity."

"Oi!" Owen was not happy and was under no compulsion to keep it to himself. "How come policeman Polly gets to come and I don't?" He groused.

"Police-woman," Gwen corrected pompously and then stuck her tongue out, "because Jack likes me better."

The Doctor stared at them in half-amusement half exasperation. "When you're done acting like kids, we'll need a ruse, Van Statten isn't just going to let us waltz in and commandeer his files to find out who he sold the part to."

"You could be collectors?" Toshiko offered. "Or sellers, do you have something in here that's alien but harmless that you could sell him?"

The Doctor's eyes glinted and he snapped his fingers. "Oh, I really like you. Right," he eyed them all over. "Ianto, Toshiko and Jack, you're coming with me—you look like rich collectors."

Gwen pouted. "You saying I don't?"

The Doctor shook his head, eyeing her faded t-shirt and black jeans in abject amusement. "No. Comic book collector maybe, but dealer in alien artefacts? Not so much."

Gwen had the decency to blush as she took in Jack's uniform, Ianto's shirt and tie and Toshiko's tailored suit.

She turned and walked out of the TARDIS, followed by a complaining Owen.

"What about me?" Owen gestured to his shirt. "I'm smart."

"That's debatable," said the Doctor and smirked at the irritated look on Owen's face. He started to shut the door in his face before thumbing over his shoulder and gesturing to Ianto and Tosh. "Besides, I like them more."


	7. Chapter 6

The Darkness within

**Chapter 6**

Miles underground in the middle of the American state of Utah sat the most elaborate and secret facility in the world. More secure than the hanger at Area 51, more heavily guarded than the Pentagon, and more expensive than any of the shops on Rodeo Drive.

A man with a heavy western moustache and deep southern accent sat back in a huge leather chair and rubbed his hands along the lines of his suit. "Nice, is it Italian?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Van Statten, sir," toadied the man with pins in his mouth. "The designer is tipped to be the next big thing. Dolce and Gabana are out, Versace's a gonner. This Tribbiani is the next star."

"Tribbiani?" Henry Van Statten grinned as he rubbed the satiny soft material. "I like him. Set him up with a store in the Boulevard and advance him three million."

The man's eyes widened. "Yes, sir. At once."

Van Statten sniffed, waited a beat, and then shooed the man out who left bowing and scraping. He turned to a young woman who sat nervously in a chair opposite.

"Now, where were we, Miss—?" He said with a big grin.

"Diana Goddard, Mr. Van Statten, sir." She gave a small tremulous smile. "I was showing you my resume."

"Ah, yes." He picked up the folder tossed casually across the table. "Diana Goddard, first in your class at MIT, transferred to Washington and then back to New York. Why the change?"

"I noticed the Assistant Director of the President's leading opposition was using alien technology to alter votes. I notified the proper authorities—"

"Who referred you to me," he nodded. "Good eye, Miss Goddard. I can use people like you, and I will."

"Yes, sir."

He gave her a once over and nodded to himself, obviously secure with his own opinion. "You get one shot and one shot only, screw up," he grinned maliciously, "and you won't ever know about it."

Diana acknowledged the comment without a flinch and he was impressed despite himself. Before he could take the interview any further he was interrupted.

"What?" he snapped as his aide walked in without so much as knocking.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Van Statten, sir. But there are four people here to see you."

Van Statten blinked. "Do they have an appointment?"

"No, sir." The man visibly sweated. "But they say they have an artefact that would interest you."

"Really?" an intrigued look crossed his face. "Fine, show 'em in and McGee?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't knock again and we'll relocate you."

"Where?" Diana Goddard asked curiously.

"Oh, Alabama, Arkansas, someplace beginning with an 'A'," he offered sinisterly and motioned for them to leave him alone.

He sat back in his chair and waited for his guest to enter, projecting the image of a man in total control of himself and his surroundings.

The doors opened and four people entered, all dressed in black with an air of authority and power that enticed him.

The one in front was skinnier and slightly more untidy than the rest, dressed in a beaten leather jacket and black jeans, but it was obviously he who was in charge. A very attractive Japanese woman stood to one side with a tall, butch male who had the all-American appearance to her left. The fourth member was tame and subdued in contrast and merely stood there, observing what was going on.

"Gentlemen and Lady." Van Statten greeted with insincere politeness. "To what do I owe the pleasure of you dropping in, without an appointment?"

The leader just shrugged. "Never really been the kind for making appointments, me." He had an odd English accent that Mr. Van Statten couldn't quite place, not that he was an aficionado of European linguistics, but he did like to know where his allies—or enemies—came from.

"English?" He smiled. "Just got me a genius from England, bright kid, a certified geek, but I'm sure he'll do okay. If not he'll be out."

"A harsh philosophy," the woman spoke up and he turned to her with his most charming expression.

"It's a harsh world, sweetheart, adversity maketh the man."

"Yeah," the leader rolled his eyes. "Never been one for small talk either."

"A man after my heart."

"Got two of my own, thanks," he muttered.

It had been a short trip to the US but the Doctor had been chomping at the bit to get there and get the next piece of the puzzle to get him closer to Rose.

The next incarnation of himself had taken to singing loudly in the back of his head and the fiftieth rendition of "I know a song that'll get on your nerves" was starting to give him a migraine and a twitch that Jack was quick to pick up on.

Citing it as another 'flaw' of this regeneration made the tenth Doctor shut up in indignation but the Doctor was left with a screaming headache which wasn't helped by Van Statten and the memory of all that had happened here before—or would happen in a few years from now.

He sighed. Time travel played hell on your grammar.

He sniffed, not wanting to have to deal with this obnoxious man again. The sooner he was out of here, the better.

"I'm Doctor Smith and these are my associates, Mr. Jones, Ms Sato and Captain Harkness. We specialise in extra-terrestrial accumulations."

Van Statten seemed to appreciate him getting down to business and gave him a once over with interest.

"You're a collector?"

"Of sorts," the Doctor smirked. Collector, destroyer; it was all part and parcel of the same thing.

Van Statten gave them his fakest smile. "And what can you do for me?"

"A few years ago I was at one of your auctions on behalf of the Doctor," said Jack, "I bought an object but a part was missing."

Van Statten stiffened. "I don't do refunds."

"I don't want one," the Doctor interjected. "What I am interested in is who bought the extra part. I want his details."

Van Statten folded his hands over his stomach in nonchalance. "Sensitive information. I mean my reputation as a reputable dealer would be at stake if I gave you the information. Not to mention the damned Defence of Data Protection Act. Giving out personal details is a big no. Sorry, Gentlemen I can't help you."

The Doctor wasn't going to take no for an answer, especially not from this stamp collector with delusions of grandeur.

How dare he get in the way of what the Doctor wanted?

The Doctor hadn't spent over a year locked in the head of skinny, badly-dressed, sugar-hyped, pretty boy facsimile of himself only to be denied the opportunity to get what he wanted by some damned human with a super-villain moustache and bad dress sense.

He felt his fists clench in annoyance at being thwarted and a surge of resentment boiled away in his stomach.

Ianto seemed to sense that the Doctor was angry and cleared his throat slightly, the sound recalling the Doctor back to business.

"I'd make it worth your while," he replied, trying to calm down while the sounds of people screaming and dying in pain down in the bunker below echoed in his memory.

Van Statten chuckled. "I have enough money, thanks."

"But you don't have one of these." The Doctor clicked his fingers and Ianto stepped forward, bringing a black briefcase out from behind him. He placed it carefully on the table and backed away.

The Doctor took something from the insides of his leather jacket and aimed it at the catch. There was a buzz and a blue light and the catches flicked open.

Van Statten stared at it in fascination. "What is that?"

"Sonic screwdriver," the Doctor sniffed, "very useful, this little fellow. But what's inside the case is even more precious."

He lifted the lid and turned the case to face Van Statten.

Inside was a shiny, sleek grey metal object. It was an almost perfect cylinder with pipes and circuits travelling all over and through it. It was obviously sophisticated, obviously elaborate, and obviously alien.

Ianto hid a frown of confusion as Jack bit his lip and looked away, seemingly unable to stare at it for long.

The gesture hadn't passed Van Statten by either and his eyes lit up at the indication that this held power over the tall Captain. "What is it?"

"As near as we can tell with our resources its part of an alien craft," Toshiko explained. "The navigation and weapons system most likely. The tubes are inserted into the cranium and the galactic co-ordinates are telepathically removed from the being in question. Once taken, a blast of hot air soothes the neurodes and extraction begins. The ship takes the course and travels."

"A neural unit," Van Statten rubbed his hands together in greed. "Like virtual reality in reverse, taking the tangible and translating it to mathematical."

"Block transfer," the Doctor said offhandedly. "I paid good money for this, two million and I'll do you a deal for it."

Van Statten practically salivated at the thought of getting his hands on this kind of alien technology. He'd corner the market on all of the applications that it could be put to, everything from computers and games to actual space travel and medical research. The Doctor was a fool for giving it up.

"How much?"

"I want the information, who bought the other piece and where he lives. Then you can have it for half of what I paid."

"A million?" He pretended to think about it. He would actually pay a good deal more for it. "What's the piece you bought?"

"Energy transferral unit," the Doctor said quickly. "Bought at auction in 1998 by my man here. You'd sold the internal clock already."

Van Statten nodded and pressed a button on his desk. "Hey, English, get me the auction files from 1998."

He leaned back, confident that his orders would be followed. "Energy transferral unit?"

"Like a matter spectrometer," Toshiko answered with a smile, obviously in her element. "Scientific exploration into the stars, stronger than the Hubble telescope."

"Great," his enthusiasm was distinctly lacking. "I prefer my alien exploration a little closer to home."

"We saw," said the Captain with a heavy drawl. "Nice museum."

"Biggest collection of extra-terrestrial memorabilia on the planet."

"Not seen my place," muttered the Doctor.

"Memorabilia," shot back Jack with a smirk, "not junk."

"Hey!" the Doctor was affronted. "She is not full of junk, Jack!"

"She?"

The Doctor and Jack froze, not willing to let the name 'TARDIS' slip into the wrong hands.

"The Doctor named his collection," interjected Ms Sato smoothly.

"Well, I'll have to visit your collection, sometime," Van Statten said as there was a knock at the door.

The interruption meant that he missed the Doctor's whispered; "Over my dead body."

"C'mon in."

The door swung open and a young boy, no more than 19 looked nervously about the room. The Doctor stiffened at the intrusion.

"English!" enthused Van Statten. "People from the home land. I'm sure you'll all be great friends. Now the file?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Van Statten, sir." The boy handed over the huge volume and dug his hands into his pockets quickly, eyeing the open briefcase with curiosity.

"Hello," Toshiko smiled at the boy, who blushed, much to Jack's amusement. "Who are you?"

"Hi. Adam Mitchell, resident genius," he said sheepishly.

"Genius?" Jack queried, wondering where he had heard the name before. Adam Mitchell sounded so very familiar.

Adam nodded and stuck his hands into his pockets. "Mr. Van Statten recruited me from Harvard post-grad last month."

Toshiko blinked. "Harvard? Aren't you a little young?"

Adam just shrugged. "Genius."

"Yeah, so genius you nearly started World War three," Van Statten said without looking up.

Adam had the grace to blush and Jack grinned. "Bet that gets you far with women, huh?"

"Yeah, right lady-killer," the Doctor spat and they all looked at him in shock at the acid evident in his words.

But the Doctor only had eyes for Adam Mitchell— the young man who had outrun Rose and left her alone to face the Dalek. The man who had taken her key, flirted with her, stolen her phone, and then tried to change the whole world to his own ends.

The Doctor hated him. Hated him for wringing a smile out of Rose, for making him doubt her, but most of all, for leaving her behind to die. He hated Adam for coming on board the TARDIS and taking up time that Rose could have—should have—spent with her Doctor. He hated him for being young and male and human and able to give Rose what he never could—a home, a family, a life.

Adam seemed to sense the hostility that flowed off the Doctor in waves and he flushed red, stepping back away from the man who radiated pure rage.

"Mr. Van Statten keeps me very busy," he offered nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'll bet," the Doctor all but growled.

Jack reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Doc," he whispered. "Ease up."

The Doctor's reply was lost in the emphatic yelp of triumph that came from Mr. Van Statten.

"Got it!" he drawled.

The Doctor turned back to him, dismissing the annoying teen from his field of vision and focussing on the more important things; a way to get closer to Rose.

"What have you got?" he questioned firmly and Van Statten looked up at him.

"Harkness for…Torchwood?" an eyebrow raised in questioning as the Doctor nodded. "1998, energy transferral unit monitoring some sort of special awareness. Paid by cash."

Jack grinned. "You wouldn't accept my American Express."

Van Statten smirked. "My notes say that the inner harmonic wouldn't have altered the overall usage of the machine."

"I like my toys to be complete." The Doctor folded his arms across his chest. "I'm sure you understand."

Van Statten nodded, eyes drifting down the page. "The inner harmonic was a temporal cog bought by a collector of archaic time pieces." He sneered. "Waste of time, it's the past—right?"

The two men who had lived in the past turned their noses up at his erroneous reasoning.

Van Statten turned the page. "Okay, guy called Bilis Manger bought it for—whooo, couple of thousand dollars, also paid cash. Runs a shop called uh…Stitch in time." He frowned and looked up. "Sorry guys, looks like he's given us some bogus address…or it's in Ireland."

"Where?"

"Some place called Car-diff."

All four strangers froze.

"Cardiff?" Ianto said in abject disbelief.

"Yeah, doesn't even sound real, does it?" Van Statten grimaced. "_Car_-diff. Card-_iff_." He rolled the word around in his American accent. "Maybe it is Irish."

"Welsh," Toshiko amended. "Cardiff is in Wales."

Van Statten paused. "Is that one of those Scandinavian bits?"

"European," Jack said with a grin. He shut the lid of the suitcase. "Thank you, Mr. Van Statten, you were very helpful."

Van Statten nodded and grasped the suitcase. "I'll wire the money to your account for this."

Toshiko nodded and handed over a sheet of paper with the relevant account details on it. "All the information you should need is here. We thank you for your time."

"Hmm," Van Statten watched as the four of them straightened up and started to walk out of the room. Adam Mitchell stepped back as the Doctor stalked by teeth bared in a snarl.

The Doctor shot a glance over his shoulder to Van Statten and nodded towards Adam. "You might wanna watch this one, Van Statten."

Van Statten frowned at Adam as the Doctor strolled out of the room and his eyes narrowed as he sat back. "You English, you like dramatic exits don't ya?"

Adam blustered nervously and backed out of the office leaving Henry Van Statten to muse on his latest toy, the boy and the four mysterious guests all but forgotten.

Toshiko shivered as she stepped back into the TARDIS. "He gave me the creeps."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I could do with a shower."

"Me too."

Jack waggled his eyebrows at the Doctor's words. "Wanna share?"

"I thought the point of a shower was to get less dirty," offered Ianto with asperity.

Jack grinned at the implied jealousy.

"Don't worry, Ianto, there is more than enough room for the three…hell, the four of us."

"I'll pass, thanks," Toshiko said as she looked up from her organizer. "According to this 'Stitch in Time' is found on Caroline Street, next to the Old Bar and Grill."

"The whole of time and space," the Doctor grumbled, "and it had to be Cardiff."

"Probably by design." Jack leaned against the edge of the console watching as the Doctor's thin fingers danced over the controls. "If this Manger guy knows anything about what he's got, dealing on a rift is a solid plan."

"I have a question," Ianto said suddenly and they all looked at him. "I realise that this information is vital to your plan of getting the rift opened and getting your Rose back, but isn't handing Van Statten a piece of alien tech a little, shall we say, risky?"

"We didn't hand it over." Jack beamed broadly. "We got paid a million for it, that's a hefty bonus, Ianto."

"Still," Toshiko worried her lip. "He has a point."

"Do you honestly think I'd hand a slimy scumbag like Van Statten a real useful piece of alien technology?" the Doctor sounded insulted.

Ianto and Toshiko both looked slightly shame-faced. "So, what was it then?"

The Doctor shared an amused glance with Jack who laughed aloud.

"Probably the most expensive hair-dryer in the universe."


	8. Chapter 7

The Darkness within

**Chapter 7**

As predicted by both Jack and the Doctor, Gwen and Owen were sulking in the Hub when the TARDIS materialised back in front of the tower.

As the travellers trundled out Owen gave them a nasty smirk.

"So the marvellous blue box didn't manage to get you very far then, did it?"

"What are you talking about?" Jack shot as he ducked the irate Pterodactyl as it swooped overhead, incensed by the sound of the TARDIS.

"You were only gone five minutes," Owen said with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "That gave you enough time to, I dunno, get down to the chippie in Splott?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Time machine, Ewan. I could go to Mars and back and still only be five minutes."

Gwen's eyes widened. "So you actually went to America?"

Toshiko nodded excitedly. "We met Henry Van Statten and got the information, apparently the dealer we want actually has a place here in Cardiff. Caroline Street."

"So all that way for nothing," Owen smiled and jammed his hands in his pocket. "Do you get air miles on that thing?"

"First up," Jack said, starting to get annoyed at Owens's constant sarcasm, "that thing' is called the TARDIS and s_he_ is sentient. A little respect for the lady, please. Secondly, don't you have some work you're supposed to be doing?"

There was a moment of electricity in the air as Owen fumed at Jack's authority, their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Jack, however, had stared down better and scarier men than Owen Harper and so it was Owen who looked away first.

"I'll get the car ready," Ianto said with a smooth smugness directed at the seething Owen.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair and immediately wondered, with a sort of absent shame, whether he had messed it up. He shifted slightly to look into the reflective surface of the water tower.

Damn this incarnation was vain.

"_Oi!" said the prisoner within. "You'd be vain too, if you were as gorgeous." In a slightly more smug tone he added. "Rose thought I was sexy, foxy even."_

The Doctor bared his teeth at his reflection and concentrated hard on entering his own mind; it was like meditation only rather than concentrating on nothing, you focussed inwards. In a heartbeat he was inside his head and stalking towards the locked door, staring in at the man chained to the bed.

He flicked the lock with a thought and stalked in, anger and annoyance written all over the once familiar chiselled features.

The tenth Doctor warily watched as his predecessor strode into the prison to glare at him. The ninth Doctor stood proudly over his bound victim.

"Problem?" the captive said in a jaunty tone.

The leather jacketed man folded his arms across his chest and pursed his lips. "We're not going to talk about the fact that you've redecorated my bedroom, I'm not really into blue so much."

"My room," corrected the prisoner.

"_My _room," the Doctor insisted. "We'll leave the subject of Jack alone and try to ignore your fashion sense." He leaned over and plucked at the pinstriped suit of his captive. He sneered in distaste as he knelt on the bed, blue eyes locking with brown.

"But we'll get this clear, now, pretty boy. In walking away from her you gave up any rights to Rose. Reminding me that, for a time, you tried to take my place isn't in your best interests. It makes me want to take out…various frustrations on you, all right?"

The bound Doctor swallowed. "Frustrations? Well, it hasn't been that long, has it? You're not exactly my type, I mean—uh, I'm sure you have many wonderful qualities which pass me by at the minute. And I'm sure that sanity is vastly overrated, I'm just saying it would be somewhat masturbatory to…"

"Shut up!" the Doctor rolled his eyes. "I'm not hitting on you and I don't want to shag you. Dirty mind you got this time around."

The Doctor tied to the bed raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and your thoughts on Rose were perfectly innocent?"

"I didn't hear you complaining," he shot back. "Especially that fantasy in the snooker room; blonde hair against green baize."

The Doctors tried to outstare each other, a slight flush on each face as memories of the detailed fantasy flashed in their minds in vivid Technicolor.

The youngest Doctor cleared his throat. "Look, I promise to find a way to Rose. You've started the ball rolling, which, well done by the way."

The older Doctor fought down the irrational surge of pride that he was impressed with himself.

"No, really it was inspired," the tenth incarnation gushed. "I mean I never even thought of the rift as a potential doorway. It's genius, of course. But now it is thought of and is possible, well. You could let me go back and sort out this Bilis bloke. What kind of a name is Bilis anyway? Sounds a bit much like bile to me, gross word 'bile'. Anyway," he took a deep breath. "I'll get the dooda—whatsit thingy and, bam, open door to reality, get Rose back. Wha'd'ya say?"

The ninth Doctor looked down at the oddly endearing yet annoyingly verbose man chained to the bed.

When he finally spoke it was very slowly and deliberately. "And what will you do if this Bilis bloke refuses to give you the temporal cog?"

The prisoner sniffed and looked like he wanted to scratch the back of his head, before realising that his hands were bound. "I'd ask nicely. Offer to pay and maybe look for another way if he's really recalcitrant."

The Doctor knelt on the bed and lowered his mouth to his captive's ear.

"No," he said softly. "We ask, we take."

He stepped back and the man on the bed swallowed. "What if it doesn't work? Hmm?" all trace of bonhomie was gone from his voice. "What if this temporal cog is faulty or missing or broken? What if this master plan of yours doesn't work, then what?"

The smile that settled on the Doctor's lips was far from nice and even further from sane. "Then we open the rift with the TARDIS anyway."

The danger in his voice echoed through the tenth Doctor and his hearts began to thunder in his chest at the implications of his statement. "You can't, that will rip a hole in the fabric of the universe, and two worlds will collapse and die."

"Yes."

Silence reigned as the two bodies sized each other up.

"You won't."

"I will."

"No!" the tenth Doctor, seeing the truth in his eyes, the promise in his tone and the catastrophe waiting to happen, tugged at his bonds. Let me go, now. We will find a way, but not this. I'll get Rose back. But you have to stop this madness."

"No!" the Doctor yelled. "Rose is mine. She said, she promised. Keep your mind and mouth away, pretty boy." He reached down and tightened the already suffocating bonds and yanked at the chains tying the Doctor down. He got down close on the bed and pushed his face into his previous incarnation's. "I have no idea what killing you will do to me…to us…but push me far enough and we'll find out. Okay?"

The Doctor swallowed dryly, afraid of himself and nodded, mind racing with possibilities, none of them appealing.

The elder, seeing the acquiescence in his prisoner pushed away.

"Fantastic."

"What's fantastic?" Jack's voice pulled him back and the Doctor spun on his heel, reacting to the transition to the real world with a brief shake of his head.

"Sorry, Jack, didn't hear what you were saying."

Jack gave Toshiko a sideways glance and then nodded back at the Doctor. "We were saying we're heading over to 'Stitch In Time', you, me, Ianto and Gwen. Toshiko is going to gather all the coordinates and equations for the rift manipulator to transcend dimensions."

"I'm sorry, am I not part of this team?" Owen spoke up with a grunt of exasperation.

Still reeling from the passage of interior to exterior motion, the Doctor snarled at him, taking everyone aback.

"I'm still at a loss as to what you actually do, Doctor Owen Harper. Aside from making stupid mammalian remarks and irritating everyone within a five mile radius, your entire being seems to be a waste of oxygen." The Doctor stalked towards the gaping man. "Arrogance without intelligence is unforgivable and I'm starting to wonder if you'll be more use as an organ donor. Ewan!"

"Doctor?" Jack's voice was more than slightly concerned as the Doctor all but hunted his medical expert.

The Doctor was inches away from a petrified Owen, his hands clutched by his sides in fists. "I'm a genius, me, but I have very little patience, so here's an idea. Keep your comments to yourself and I won't give in to the urge to take you to Raxifit Five and dump you on the third moon, during hunting season, all right?"

Owen nodded hastily and the Doctor burst into a manic grin. "Fantastic."

He stepped back; temper reigned in and rubbed his hands, ignoring the astonished and somewhat wary glances of the Torchwood group. "So, shall we be off, then?"

Jack motioned to the door and let the Doctor precede him, staring at the swaying leather jacket thoughtfully.

There was uneasy silence in the car as it traversed the streets of Cardiff.

The Doctor was thinking of little but the means to an end; one tiny component was all that stood between him and getting what he wanted and needed. He was so close to getting Rose back that he could almost taste her sweet scent and smell that strawberry conditioner that she used. He was so close. So very _very_ close.

Jack was worried; the Doctor he had known before had always been on edge and just a little scary—especially when it came to Rose. He had expected that this regeneration would be calmer, if not slightly less manic, but it seemed that the transition had only exacerbated the underlying emotions, bringing them closer to the surface than ever before. The Doctor, in essence, was a ticking time bomb with a very short fuse and these mini explosions weren't doing anything other than delaying the inevitable detonation and holocaust that it would cause. Jack only hoped that the damage would be limited.

Gwen was busy reviewing her police training as she kept one eye on the Doctor who had burst into their lives with gusto. She was trying to recall any psychological modules that could help her with the hair-trigger that the Doctor appeared to have—anything tiny thing seemed to set it off and she was wondering if they were truly safe with this man who had a special hold on Jack. She'd never seen Jack like this, he was always the one who was in charge and to see him willingly hand over command to the Doctor without so much a blink was unnerving to say the least.

Just who was this Doctor? A young man with a time machine, an alien who looked human? A loony without a bin.

Ianto kept his eyes on the road but his mind on the Doctor sitting behind him, wondering if he had imagined that brief second where his eyes had seemed to turn from deep brown to the brightest blue.

They drew up outside a rather antique looking shop, the supports done out in dark oak and the glass musty with dust and time. To the Doctor, as well as Jack, it reminded them of something from the Edwardian era, a very austere and reserved time.

They stepped inside, four bodies crowding the interior of the tiny shop and a bell sounded above the door with an elegant chime.

Jack gave a low whistle as he looked around the shop. "Nice."

Gwen shook her head. "Some of these pieces must go back centuries."

"They do," the Doctor said tersely and pointed at a large clock on one wall. It was elegant and decorated in the deepest bronze. Two female angels stood at either side of a bronze pedestal which was topped by a small clock with roman numerals. One angel held a palm frond whilst the other stepped on a ball. One hand was missing from the clock and Gwen stepped forward to get a better look at the beautiful piece.

She gasped aloud as she read the small inscription on the clock face.

"White Star line?" She faced the Doctor in shock. "Wasn't that—?"

"The clock missing from the sunken wreckage of the Titanic. Yes." He sneered in distaste as he glanced around, expert eyes taking in more detail and more of the elaborate and unique time-pieces. He stepped forward and let his fingers drift over another exquisite clock. "This one was from the Mary Celeste. This from the meeting room at 10 Downing Street before it exploded." He inclined his head. "I was quite fond of that one."

Jack licked his lips as realisation dawned. "So, he scavenges antique pieces from the past, brings them here, and sells them for a profit. Not a bad business plan."

"We've all got to make a living."

They all turned at the voice that came from the doorway.

The Doctor stared hard at the man who swam in and out of his vision like a holographic picture angled towards the light. He was like a ghost to the Doctor's time-sensitive sight. He was there but he wasn't. He didn't belong.

"You're Bilis Manger?" Jack asked incredulously, staring at the man who looked so out of his time. He had thinning white hair and an air of grace and eerie charm that made all the hairs on his arm stand on end. Dressed in Edwardian garb with a straight blazer and tidy cravat he looked more like a poster child for a Sherlock Holmes mystery than a store owner.

Bilis smiled, a cat-like curve of his lips that set the teeth on edge. "That I am," he intoned slowly, "how can I help you gentlemen?"

"You're wrong," the Doctor bit out, his eyes trying to fix on the blurring image he saw in front of him.

Jack stared askance at the Doctor's terse words but Gwen frowned.

"I don't understand. How did you get these pieces? You weren't on the Titanic, or the Marie Celeste. How can you scavenge bits of history? How can you be in two times at once?"

"How can _he_?" Bilis asked, watching the Doctor who grimaced. "I can step across eras, like you'd walk into another room."

"You can travel in time… time walk?" Gwen tried to reason it out in her head and Jack grinned.

"Let's do the time walk again."

"Jack," the Doctor admonished with a roll of his eyes.

Bilis sighed. "At first, it was the most incredible gift. Now I know the reality ... it's a curse."

"Why?" Gwen smiled sweetly. "Seems like a great gift. There's so much history I'd love to see."

The Doctor allowed her a brief glance but his attention was drawn back to haunting eyes of Bilis.

"I can see the whole of history, but I don't belong anywhere within it. You know that feeling don't you, Doctor?"

The Doctor said nothing his eyes seemingly locked on the strange man who edged closer towards the group with a sinister air.

Jack bit his lip, not sure where to look between the two men. "Now, how did you know who he is?"

"Oh, myths, legends. I can feel resonances in time, can't I, Doctor?" Bilis sneered. "I can be in so many places; dance along…rifts."

The Doctor stiffened as the implication arose.

"Watch history in the making—or unravelling. Troy, the blitz, or say…Canary Wharf."

The Doctor had Bilis by the throat, up against the wall before anyone registered that he had moved.

He glared with undisguised hatred up at the man whose eyes had widened and bulged at the assault and who clawed frantically at the Doctor's vice-like grip.

The Doctor's hands tightened their choke hold as the wrinkly man turned slightly blue.

"Know what can't beat time? Death." The Doctor bared his teeth. "Or shall we test that?"

Kill him, kill him, kill him. It would be so easy, just a little twitch and he'd snap like a twig. You wouldn't have to ask for the time piece you could just take it and Rose would be yours so much quicker. He's in the way, he doesn't belong. He's wrong.

"_And you're so right?"_ his inner passenger spoke up. _"Haven't we killed enough? One more death would so easily turn into two, two to ten. The oncoming storm changing to the oncoming bloodbath. Is that what Rose would want?"_

Those words made him pause though his fingers flexed.

"Doctor," Jack interrupted warily. "We need him to get the component, okay, so maybe killing him won't be the best way to find it."

The Doctor leaned into Bilis and whispered something for his ears only.

Bilis paled and nodded abruptly as the Doctor dropped him, he faltered and crumpled into a ball at the Doctor's feet.

"We need the time component for the rift manipulator," the Doctor ordered. "Give it to us."

Bilis looked up at him and gave a slight smile. "You'll never find it."

"We don't need to. You do." Jack pointed out, his hands starting to feel twitchy about his trigger. Damn, he wanted to shoot this guy.

"I told you," Bilis smirked as he got to his feet, dusting off his cravat, "I can step in and out of eras like that." He snapped his fingers and blinked.

The Doctor folded his arms across his chest and sighed as Bilis blinked again, suddenly looking worried.

Bilis looked down at his wiry body and then back up at the Doctor. "But. I don't understand."

The Doctor leaned forwards conspiratorially. "Time Lord," he said in a loud whisper. "I froze your little jumping tracks trick. Stuck in the twenty-first century. Twenty-first century Cardiff. Lucky you." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, that time piece we were talking about?"

Bilis sniffed, obviously beaten but reluctant to acknowledge it. "But, of course. It isn't here. You'll have to come with me."

The Doctor gave him a feral grin. "Lead the way."

Jack loved the dance hall; it was something that reminded him of his own past, of the time he had spent in the 1940's.

It reminded him of the first time he had seen Rose, hanging from the barrage balloon with her beautiful wide eyes staring in terror and her nice… rear bumper.

He smirked to himself as he glanced around the huge dance space, feeling the ghosts of the pre-war years staring back at him.

He glanced up at the ceiling and whistled. "Wow, look at the chandelier. No neon lights back then."

Gwen nodded. "It's gorgeous, Jack."

Jack closed his eyes and imagined the dance floor full of women in dark red lipstick and flowered dresses just showing the most tantalizing glimpse of knee or thigh as they swirled in the arms of men in uniforms.

He opened his arms out and spun in a circle before grabbing Gwen's hand and pulling her into a light waltz.

"Just dashing young soldiers and pretty young ladies. And as they danced, the girls would look into their partners' eyes, smile softly and say ..."

"Get your hands off me or I'll call the police?" the Doctor interjected from his place leaning against the frame of the door.

Jack dropped the laughing Gwen's hand and grimaced. "I was thinking more along the lines of, "How long before you head off to war?""

The Doctor gave a small smirk and stared at Bilis who was sulking in one corner, apparently not too thrilled that his "curse" was gone.

In his hand the Doctor held the small circular device that would fit into the rift manipulator and allow him to select a specific time and place to open. It was such an innocuous little thing that could cause so much untold chaos.

_People screaming as laser fire erupted from the heavens. Hoards of soldiers in ancient battle regalia storming down Rodeo drive._ _Plague-infected corpses filling the streets with the pungent smell of unwashed bodies and festering wounds. Armies of Romans storming through Cardiff. Medieval man running into the roads and him… the bringer of chaos, the harbinger of death striking down all who fall in his shadow._

The Doctor glowered. Not on his watch. This would be done properly.

It would be done right.

He glanced over his shoulder to Bilis who was watching him warily, almost as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. He gave him a sneer and turned his back on him as unworthy of attention, an insult and challenge.

He could feel Bilis seethe but had other things on his mind.

"Right, come on you lot. Places to go, blondes to save, can't be hanging about all day."

"Yeah," Jack sighed longingly. "Nothing here but memories and dust."

Jack motioned for Gwen to lead the way out, ready to get back to Ianto who was waiting in the car.

The Doctor paused by Bilis and the man felt that icy finger of fear creep along his spine as he was caught in the Doctor's gaze.

"I don't know who you worked for or who gave you the power to cross timelines and I don't care. If I even start to feel your presence anywhere near me or mine again, interfering in time, I will kill you."

Bilis sniffed disparagingly. "I know you of old legend, Doctor. My master devastates cities with his shadow while you are a pitiful old fool who wallows in humanity like a pig in mud. You do not kill."

The Doctor smiled softly, dangerously. "I'm the Oncoming Storm, I destroy civilisations with words."

He lowered his head to look right into the heart of Bilis. Storm clouds gathered in his eyes and reflected the fires of a thousand civilisations lost and annihilated. Cities destroyed and planets left burning, people screaming and systems lay in ruins echoed in those orbs that shifted from caramel to azure and back again. "And I've run out of pity. Run away, Bilis, run away."

And, as the Doctor strode out of the dance hall, Bilis did just that.


	9. Chapter 8

The Darkness within

**Chapter 8.**

"Jack?" Gwen's voice was her usual blend of unease and confidence that entranced

Jack as she poked her head into his office. She was sure of herself, but unsure if she was welcome and it made him smile as he spun his chair to face her.

"Yeah." He leaned his hands on his hips and regarded her over his booted feet, which he propped on the desk.

Gwen bit her lip and inclined her head, her hair swinging to half cover her face. "This Doctor, you know 'im?"

Jack sighed. He'd known this was coming. In the few hours that the Doctor had re-entered his existence he had spun Jack's world on its axis—again. In truth Jack wasn't surprised that his team wanted to know about the unexpected and, in some cases, unwelcome visitor. He glanced out of his office to see Owen glowering murderously at the Doctor who had usurped Toshiko's hero worship…Oh, and his desk.

He rubbed his hand across his face. "Honest, Gwen, I don't know. I thought I did but he's so different and yet the same. It's like he's changed but not and I can't put my finger on it."

Gwen perched on the edge of the desk. "The thing is, Jack, he doesn't seem particularly stable. I mean one second he's laughing and the next he has Owen by the throat."

Jack managed a grin. "Something we've all wanted to do at one time."

Gwen nodded in amusement but quickly sobered. "Can we trust him?"

"Yes." The reply was immediate and Gwen blinked in surprise at the rapidity of his response.

Jack explained. "The Doctor is a force for good in this universe; his methods are a little…odd, maybe. But I've seen him save planets and civilisations at great cost to himself. He won't destroy the world or the universe."

Gwen watched him for a moment before saying softly. "You don't really believe that."

Jack swallowed hard, not sure he liked someone being able to read him so well. "I used to," he admitted. "You gotta understand, Gwen, the Doc and Rose were like soul mates. Two sides of the same coin."

"I did some checking up on Rose Tyler," Gwen interjected sheepishly. "The records show she was only a teenager, maybe 21 now."

"22," Jack amended. "She lost a year travelling with the Doctor. Space time…" he waved a hand. "Never mind."

"She's so young and he's so old. 900 odd, Jack, and an alien. How can they be soul mates?"

Jack sighed again and placed his hands behind his head, watching memories play against his eyelids. "You had to see them together. For an innocent girl—well, as innocent as any teen in the twenty-first century could be—and a Time Lord it worked." He gave a bemused bark of laughter at the image of a man with a heavy leather jacket and big ears being wrapped around the finger of a blonde girl. "He died for her and she'd do the same for him."

"Sounds unhealthy."

"No," Jack dropped his feet to the floor and gave her his most intense stare. "Rose kept him grounded, pulled him back from the edge so many times. She healed him while I watched. Her smile did more than million years of therapy could ever do. She made him stop, made him think. Appealed to his conscience if you like."

"And that's why you don't want to trust him?" Gwen guessed. "Because Rose isn't around to tell him when to stop?"

Jack smirked at how in tune they were. "Next we'll be picking out china patterns."

"You couldn't afford me," she shot back and dusted off her trousers as she stood up. "He says he's almost ready. He's hooked his machine—"

"TARDIS."

"Right, he's hooked it up to the rift manipulator to give it the energy boost and the stability of Artron energy and Tosh is inputting the spatial coordinates now for the temporal shift. The equations are done, that…round thingy is in place and it looks like full steam ahead in an hour."

Jack nodded and got to his feet. "You know, you sounded so smart, right up until 'round thingy'. I was almost impressed."

"Glad you were," she said as she held the door open for him. "Cuz I didn't have a bloody clue what I was saying."

The Doctor had regained some of his manic energy and bounced around with cables draped around his neck like an eccentric with his snakes.

"This goes there," he snapped at Owen. "Not there!"

"All right, keep your hair on!" Owen muttered and the Doctor's hand drifted to his head before he stopped, annoyed.

"Vain!" he hissed to himself and grabbed another cable.

Owen looked over at Tosh and made a circle near his ear, professing his opinion that the Doctor was one stethoscope short of a full lab.

Tosh simply ignored him which further exacerbated his annoyance.

"So, Doc, we open the rift, yeah, and then, what? You go through, find your lady misses and pull 'er back?"

The Doctor gave Owen the rather specific "Owen-is-a-moron" look that had become so familiar in the past few hours. Unbeknownst to them it was a lesser version of "Adam-is-an-twit" but the next stage in the "Mickey-is-an-idiot" variety.

"This rift won't necessarily open up in London. Rose may have moved to Europe. We could end up in Norway," he swallowed, "or New York. It'll take some time, Ewan the useless."

"Can we hold the rift open while you search?" Toshiko asked dubiously. "It won't be stable and might tear."

"We close it," Jack informed them as he came down the stairs with Gwen on his heels. "The Doc goes through with one of you and I'll stay on the other side to open the rift again when the time is up. You get 24 hours and then we bring you back. I'll place a tracer on you so it's easier to locate."

"Although, odds are if the rift coordinates were taken from Pete's world we could end up in Torchwood tower," The Doctor said with a smile. "Finding Rose—easy. Persuading Jackie to let her go again, could take some time."

Owen leered. "Let's hope they've not pulled the tower down, then or your trip could end up with us pulling you out of the Thames."

There was a brief inner struggle within the Doctor as to whether or not it would be a constructive use of resources to pull Owen's tongue out of his mouth and throttle him with it.

"_Easy," _cautioned his inner annoyance _"Jack might take offence at your dismembering one of his team."_

The Doctor shot him a picture and he could feel his inner self wince.

"_All right, dismembering not the right word—eviscerating. Definitely more blood involved in evisceration…have you considered therapy?"_

Despite the words from himself, the Doctor could sense the underlying irritation that he felt towards Owen. It seemed even his future counterpart had low tolerance for idiocy. It wouldn't take much to persuade the prisoner to take measures against the man.

After toying with the idea for a brief second, he decided that it would perhaps be better left until another time. He reigned in the dark beast that seemed to lurk ever closer to the surface and gave Owen a feral smile.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Ewan."

Owen's jaw clenched at the dismissive tone and he turned back to his computer.

The Doctor gave a satisfied smile and turned to an obviously worried Jack.

"All right, Captain?" he asked jovially and started to fold his arms across his chest.

"No," Jack answered quickly, startling the Doctor who had expected him to at least give some semblance of bravado.

"Is this safe, Doc?"

"Safer than you will be, if you keep calling me Doc."

That elicited a grin from Jack. "I'm serious, Doc_tor_. This rift is unstable and dangerous at the best of times and this ain't exactly the best of times. Is opening it a good idea."

"Nope."

Jack blinked, not expecting that.

"What?"

"It's a terrible idea, bad, mad and dodgy. Foolish even and definitely dangerous, even if you are a Time Lord or an immortal. On the scale of bad ideas this is right up there with 'at 'em men they're only goblins'."

"So why chance it?" Jack urged him, searching for the slightest hint of doubt…or rationality.

The Doctor stared blankly at the far wall and thought for several seconds, his hands absently twisting wires. "Two things," he said softly after some time. "One, it's Rose."

Her name was spoken on a hushed whisper of love and adoration, of broken promises and shattered hearts and Jack could feel the anguish behind every word.

The Doctor was willing to do this for her, to transverse universes and possibly shatter realities for her and he was really going to do it.

"You could never deny her anything, could you?" Jack said softly.

The Doctor chuckled, a low sound which was at odds coming from the youngish looking man in front of him.

"Never. I took her to see her Dad, even though I knew it was a bad idea. I took her twice in the same time line, almost caused the end of the world, hell, of the _universe_, just so she could spend a little time with him." The Doctor closed his eyes. "I can see her now, you know, Jack, looking at me like I had all the answers, crying because she thought she was so cowardly when she couldn't run to him and asking to go again."

The fear of what could have happened in that particular scenario ran through Jack's mind and he bit his tongue. "She went back? You took her back."

"Breaking the rules of the Time Lords?" The Doctor smirked humourlessly. "Yeah, sort of. Hated to watch that mascara run. So brave though, my Rose. Went back, saved the world. Saved me and had to watch her Dad die."

"Rose mentioned seeing her Father; that was with the old you wasn't it?"

For a moment the Doctor was wrong footed, suddenly remembering that he was in his next body. "Yeah, course."

Jack simply nodded, pretending he hadn't noticed the hesitation. "So what was the second?"

"What?"

"You said there were two reasons why you'd chance this. One was Rose, what was the second?"

The Doctor looked blank for a second. "Because I'm a genius." He broke into a beaming grin and walked away, leaving Jack staring bemusedly at his back.

The time rotor was in place, the TARDIS was trussed up like a chicken at Christmas, hooked up to a kaleidoscope of multi-coloured wires, and the Hub was in a state of waiting anxiety as Tosh inputted the equations into the central rift manipulator.

"I feel like we should say something."

Everyone turned to Ianto.

"Like what?" Owen asked.

"I don't know, once more into the breach? Here we stand, we few, we happy few? Something." Ianto shrugged. "Atmospheric."

"Let's hope we don't destroy the universe?" Jack offered and everyone glowered at him.

"Another one bites the dust?" Owen chortled.

"No," Gwen admonished, "Ianto is right, I mean, we're crossing universes here, we should say something. It doesn't have to be, one small leap or anything like that."

"Shame," the Doctor said with a shake of his head. "Good line, that. Neil was impressed with it, took it right off my napkin."

It was the Doctor's turn to be stared at.

"What?" He shrugged. "It was either that or "Hey, it's not made of cheese after all!""

"Initiating now," Tosh said as she hit enter and came to stand by the other members of Torchwood as they watched a small flicker of light start to glow in the centre of the room.

It was like fairy dust starting to twinkle in the air, surrounded by the shimmering glow of moonlight which throbbed and thrummed in resonance as it grew. Soon a blue glistening orb with frayed edges hung in the room, the orb shining like the moon.

The translucency waned and it became harder, harsher, and more real as the blue deepened to a baby blue and then the colour of a pure azure sky.

It changed shape from an orb to a cylinder and then elongated, ever shifting in colour until it resembled no more than a slit of glimmering, shimmering turquoise in the centre of the room—a tear in the fabric of reality.

"Holding," Tosh whispered as she stared spellbound at the materialising rift.

"It's beautiful," Gwen said in a hushed tone and the Doctor clapped his hands.

"Right then let's be off, places to go, people to rescue."

Jack grimaced. "Way to break the moment."

"Ewan?" The Doctor motioned for him to follow as he stepped towards the breach. Owen gaped.

"What, you want me to come?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Are you not part of this team, or is that bitching something you do to spend time?"

Owen's mouth opened and closed.

"Toshiko is needed for the co-ordinates, Jack's staying here to oversee, Ianto isn't as field ready and Rose would slap me if I turned up with Gwen, and believe you me, nothing in this universe is more intimidating than a Tyler slap."

"So I get there by default," Owen looked slightly more comfortable.

"Yeah, that all right?"

"No."

"Good." The Doctor turned to Jack. "24 hours, then open her up and beep me. I'll come back to wherever it comes out."

"You got it, Doc." He pulled the Doctor aside. "Are you sure about taking Owen with you?"

The Doctor blinked. "Of course. I never said anything about bringing him back though."

The Doctor gave Jack a beaming grin and sauntered towards the rift. "In you go, Ewan the useless."

He shoved Owen through the rift with more force than strictly necessary and turned back to Ianto. "Uh,

_Here we go through the breach, hoping that it's Rose we reach. _

_If Rose we cannot reach in time, it'll be the end of your universe and mine_."

He stepped into the bright light with a cheery wave and Toshiko closed it behind him.

There was a small silence.

"Not exactly what I was going for," Ianto smoothed down his jacket. "But it'll do."


	10. Chapter 9

The Darkness within

**Chapter 9**

The Doctor stepped onto cold hard pavement and sighed, relishing the slight breeze around his face after the cloying heat of the Hub. He inhaled deeply and could smell the sweet scent of honeysuckle and lavender and the odd mixture of diesel oil and dust.

It was a familiar scent to the body, if not the mind, and one that he had wished he could smell for so long now; it was the smell of Earth point 2, or Pete's world.

He stepped forward and almost tripped over something lying on the street.

It was Owen who had found the landing a little bumpier than he was used to.

The Doctor stared in amusement down at the man on the pavement who was glowering up at him. "Feel free to give me a hand, then."

The Doctor helped him up and even allowed him time to dust himself off.

"So, where are we?" Owen asked glancing around, pretending that his little lapse with gravity hadn't happened.

"London, possibly," the Doctor scratched the back of his neck. "Or it could be Manchester, hell, could be Bergen for all I know."

Owen rolled his eyes. "So glad I came with you. So what would help, then?"

The Doctor folded his arms as he glanced up at the floating Zeppelins. "Road map would be quite handy, even a newspaper."

Owen followed his gaze. "Blimey, is it a blimp festival?"

"Here they use Zeppelins rather than trains or caravans; makes the air fresher. The sky has become a playground for the rich."

Owen couldn't take his eyes off the floating monstrosities. They were big and shiny and full of an other-worldliness that he hadn't seen before.

The people seemed to take them as a matter of course and ignored them as they went about their daily lives, but Owen's senses were assaulted. Shops with names Owen didn't recognise captured his attention, as did the people wearing outfits that were so contrary to his delicate twenty-first century sensibilities.

It was Earth—but not.

Owen stuffed his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath.

"Right, so no use pussying around then. Let's find out where we are."

In stalking off towards the bustling crowds Owen completely missed the somewhat impressed look the Doctor shot him.

"Excuse me, love," Owen walked up to the prettiest blonde and gave her a smile. "Uh, me and my friend here have just hitchhiked. Can you tell us where we've ended up?"

The girl gave him a disinterested once over, chewing noisily and the peered over his shoulder to see his 'friend'. A blush settled on her attractive features and she smiled at the Doctor.

"Leicester City Centre. Shires shopping cen're's tha' way, The Haymarket's over there. 'S a Holiday Inn 'bout twen'y minutes tha' way if ya wanna stay in this dump."

"No thanks," the Doctor said with a smile ignoring the fact that the letter "t" had been all but removed from her vocabulary. "We need to get to London."

"Hmm, 'kay," the girl popped her gum and turned around. "Down high street, keep going when ya get t'crossing. Straight over junction, yeah? Then past Hope shoes, Brackleys Bank, the Euro shops and the Post office. The P Z station's on the left."

"PZ?" Owen frowned.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Public Zeppelin. Like, where have you been?"

"Parallel world."

"Should fink so wiv them shoes," she shot back and wandered off.

"Delightful girl," Owen hissed. "Reminds me of my first girlfriend."

"No wonder you're single." The two shared a very masculine look of amusement before heading off in the direction they had been pointed towards.

Owen had tried his best not to be awed by the Doctor. His ego wasn't exactly fragile, but having someone new come in and pretty much take over—even from Jack—was slightly disconcerting to the male part of him that liked to be in charge and in control at all times.

He disliked having Toshiko look to someone else with wide, adoring eyes; he disliked Jack blatantly ignoring his sarcasm, and anything that made tea-boy Ianto happy was sure to spell doom for Owen.

That said, having a box that could travel in space and time was far ahead of a Ferrari in cool points, and being able to travel to a different dimension was better than frequent flier miles. A sonic screwdriver which could alleviate cash from cash points with a single buzz was better than any Gold Card, and Owen found himself impressed despite himself.

"I so want one of those!" he gushed as the Doctor tucked the sonic screwdriver out of sight.

"Maybe when you're older," was the Doctor's reply as he paid for the two of them to travel via Jet Zeppelin to London.

Travelling by Zeppelin, Owen decided, was a little like being in a lift that went sideways; a little bumpy, with the feeling that gravity wasn't completely on your side, nor would be very friendly when it stopped.

He spent the two hours that it took to get to London staring at his feet and trying not to wonder what Chicken Chow mein would look like second time around.

The Doctor was studying the inner workings of the Zeppelin with glee and alternated between chatting to the driver and contemplating all the things that could go wrong with such a machine.

"Imagine a breach," he said enthusiastically, "a small puncture in the outer hull and all the air would get sucked out decompressing the shell until it created a vacuum, we'd either suffocate or be squashed, isn't that fantastic?"

Owen paled. "Yeah, great."

"Or maybe if we got the altitude we'd just get frozen air sucked in. We'd be frozen within seconds and the cold would jam up the works causing the Zeppelin to crash and burn. You humans," he said affectionately. "Always finding more ingenious ways to kill yourselves."

Owen had his head between his legs and was working on an ingenious way to kill the Doctor when the host spoke the most beautiful three words he had ever heard.

"Next stop: London."

"Thank God!" he breathed.

"Actually," the Doctor said as he pressed the button to open the doors, "I think his name was Clive."

Somehow alternate London was far more to Owen's taste than Leicester had been. Even in his own version of London, it was almost expected for people to be wearing outlandish outfits and to drive like maniacs. Earth 2.0 seemed to be exactly the same. He even recognised one or two of the names of stores, or at least their purpose.

He rubbed his hands together. "Right, so how do we find this bird of yours then?"

The Doctor grinned manically. "One of three ways. One, if Rose still has the TARDIS key on her, I can trace her with my sonic screwdriver. Two, I can go straight to Torchwood at Canary Wharf and try to see if she works there."

Owen waited a beat. "Or three?"

"I can call her," the Doctor pulled out a mobile phone from his pocket.

Owen folded his arms. "Hello, darling, it's the Doctor. I've come to take you back to a parallel world with me, oh what's that? You got married? Three kids. A ha. April fools!" Owen sighed. "There's this thing called surveillance, yeah? Or even subtlety."

The Doctor had frozen with his fingers on the dial, his face a picture of shock. "Married?" His voice trembled slightly as the thought hit him with all the force of a freight train.

"How long since you've seen this girl anyway?"

"It took five months to find a supernova and a rip to say goodbye, then we got caught up in the Donna mess. Must be about eight months at least. For me, time moves differently here."

"We?"

"What?"

Owen sniffed. "You said we. 'We' got caught up in the Donna mess. Who's 'we'."

The Doctor stared at his mobile phone for a long moment and then pinned Owen with an annoyed look. "Me and my alter ego, okay? Can we focus, please?"

"Jeez!" Owen held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right. So how about we head to Torchwood then?"

"Fine." The Doctor gestured for Owen to lead the way.

Thankfully the layout of old London town was the same as on their Earth so they didn't get too lost or, as the Doctor said as they walked past Tesco twice 'Temporally displaced.'

Canary Wharf was slightly more dilapidated here than on their version of Earth and Owen folded his arms across his chest and sniffed disparagingly at the shattered windows and crumbling brickwork of a clearly uninhabited building.

"Just a thought, mate. If they re-established this highly secret agency, right, would they put it in the very public place of the last flipping empire? Not exactly covert is it?"

But the Doctor wasn't listening.

His attention was caught by a playground just across the road. A group of screaming children were bouncing about on the various bars and brackets that were there for their enjoyment. Their youthful enthusiasm for mud pies and games was evident in their volume—but it wasn't that which had caught his attention.

The Doctor raced across the road, causing several London drivers to demonstrate their accurate grasp of language if not of biological abilities. But he was oblivious as he careened towards the railings that encircled the child's play area.

Kneeling down by the bottom of the slide was a form so familiar that he knew it by heart.

A form he had taken the hand of and tugged out of danger and into his life. A form he had held while she cried over her dead father. A form he had watched and longed for and laughed with and needed.

A form he loved.

Delicately streaked blonde hair hung around her face in a messy pony-tail to trail over her black jacket. A heart-shaped face stared up at the top of the slide, smiling sweetly at someone at the top of the apparatus. With an encouraging nod she waited for the person to slide down, bursting into _that_ smile as the child crashed into her arms.

Rose Tyler, older, softer and more beautiful, swept the child into a crushing hug and giggled loudly.

His hearts thrummed loudly in his chest as he watched the unbridled delight in her expression and all he wanted to do was sweep into the park and grab her and never let go.

But there were children or at least one—was it hers?

The child should be theirs-his and Rose's. Was Ewan the useless right? He couldn't be— Rose wouldn't…Was Rose happily married with children? Without him? Would she resent him just walking back into her life assuming that she had waited for him? Had she waited for him, like he had for her?

He had told her that she could stay with him forever but he had also said that seeing him again was an impossibility—has she taken that literally?

A flash of anger buried itself in his belly. He'd waited for her. He'd stuck around inside the head of a vain, manically optimistic pretty boy for her.

He'd watched and waited and ached for her.

Had she moved on? He'd _waited_!

A sharp crack made him look down to the cracked case of the mobile phone in his hands. He took a deep breath.

No. Not his Rose.

"_Are you so sure?" _ His little passenger spoke up, his voice just as quiet and pain-filled. _"We told her to have a fantastic life, maybe she's doing that. We should let her go."_

But he couldn't just let her go, not after seeing her so close. He wanted her, yearned for her and had done the impossible. He deserved her, damn it!

"_She looks happy."_

"Shut up."

"_You can't intrude on that."_

"Shut up."

"_How can you justify—?"_

"I said shut UP!" The voice fell silent, probably feeling the swell of emotions within.

He was torn; torn between his desire to have her by his side no matter the cost and his deeply ingrained sense of non-intervention, instilled from childhood.

He wanted her but at what price? Her happiness. He could feel his hearts hardening even as he stood there.

Before he could decide whether to approach her or to just walk away and let her live her life without him, he realised that he was being watched.

A small girl with red hair in pigtails was staring at him with wide eyes. He offered her a small grin and she raced over to one of the women sitting on the bench, watching the children.

"Stranger!" the girl called and pointed towards him.

He gulped as the woman sprung to her feet, her hand reaching into her belt for a tazer gun, her stony eyes proclaiming him a pervert. With her other hand she grabbed a cord at her throat and pulled out a whistle, giving it a sharp blast.

All activity on the playground halted at the shrill sound and every single child shot over to the bench, staring up wide-eyed at the woman.

The silence in the once busy playground was deafening and all visions of escape fled his mind as he wondered exactly what he'd walked into… and where the hell was Owen?

"Commander!" the woman yelled and Rose hastened over, a child still clinging to her.

Rose looked down at the tazer and then followed it up to where the woman had it trained.

Right at the Doctor.

She blinked and let the child slide down her body, almost in slow motion.

The Doctor couldn't take his eyes off Rose who was staring at him like she was seeing a ghost.

He lifted up his hand and gave her a slight wave, feeling like an idiot, but having to do something to break the stalemate.

Rose stepped towards him carefully almost as if the slower she walked the easier it would all be, and then shook her head, starting to walk normally.

He held his breath until she made it to the railings, his hands reaching to the waist-high metal bars to steady himself.

She hadn't changed—oh her make-up was more subtle, her eyes were sadder and her hair was longer—but in essentials she was still there, still his Rose.

"Hello," he said softly, unable to stay silent in her presence.

"Impossible?" she whispered.

"Ish," he shrugged. "Impossible-ish. Sort of."

A sob burst from her throat, erupting into a burbled laugh that was as much pleasure as anguish. Her hand clasped to her mouth.

"Doctor?"

He grinned. "Hello."

Ignoring the railings, Rose leaned over to throw her arms around him.

From her heartbeat against his chest, her soft hair against his face and her scent surrounding him, it was like coming home.

Oh Rassilon—this was what was meant be. But she was still too far away. He pulled back and glared at the railings.

Rose sniffed. "The gate's—"

"Sod the gate!" he said and vaulted the railings. He had her in his arms again before his feet hit the floor and this time it was a proper embrace.

Body to body, hips to thighs, legs entwined and arms entangled, he had her back and he wasn't letting go.

Not ever. He didn't care if she had family here, he didn't care if she were married or engaged or a bigamist. Rose was his, she had always been his.

A fierce wave of possession swamped him as he held her closer.

Mine. I've got you. I've got you and I don't ever have to let go. Neverletyougo. All mine.

With a small breath he swept her into a tighter hug and swung her around, swirling her in a circle that had her giggling and kicking her legs.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled, long and hard.

It had been years for him, for this mind, for this memory and it had been too damn long. Watching as she hugged i_his_/i body, as she embraced i_him/i_ and all the time wishing he had taken more advantage of her affectionate nature and now he had the second chance.

"Rose," he whispered, his words a longing plea. "My Rose."

Mine, all mine, I'll never let you go, not ever.

"My Doctor." Rose pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. "If this is a flying visit, I swear to all that is green and slimy, I'll kill you."

He laughed out loud. "I think you promised me forever, Miss Tyler."

Forever.

Rose nodded quickly. "And don't think you're wriggling out of it, either."

"Never!" He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

He wanted so desperately to make it her lips, to devour her mouth and make her his own in truth as well as words, but not with an audience of small people.

The pig-tailed red head had wandered over and was glaring up at him.

"Miss Tyler, are you s'posed to snog strangers?"

Rose broke away and stared down at the small girl.

"No, Amy. This is an old friend of mine, I haven't seen in years and we weren't snogging."

"Hello!" He waved down at the girl. "I'm the Doctor."

"I don't kiss my doctor," Amy said decisively. "He's old."

"Well, good," Rose said as she stepped back, smoothing down her clothes in slight embarrassment. "How about you tell Mrs Harris we're ready to go. Okay Amy?"

Amy shrugged and walked away.

"Cute kid," the Doctor offered offhandedly.

"Precocious as hell," Rose muttered and glanced around the play ground. "They all are."

"Ahh." He nodded and reached down to grab her hand, not wanting to let her go. Rose glanced down at their entwined fingers and grinned before following the hand up to the jacket with her eyebrow raised. As it registered she did a double-take, a variety of expressions covering her face from shock to hurt before settling on uneasy pleasure.

"What's with the new look?"

He glanced down and remembered that she had last seen this body in pinstripes and not in his old leather battered jacket.

"I chose this outfit when I lost my home." He looked up into her eyes. "Seemed appropriate to wear it again when I lost you."

Rose couldn't speak for a second and then offered quietly: "That include the accent?"

His mind raced as he both marvelled at her observation and cursed it. This wasn't the way he wanted to tell her what he'd done and Rose wasn't easily dissuaded. But what could he say that wouldn't have her trying to find a way to save his tenth self?

Having had experience with Rose and her emotions he decided to play on the one card he held—sentimentality.

He raised a hand to her cheek, brushing it gently. "I'll tell you later, let me just enjoy this, my Rose."

It worked and her eyes filled as she reached for him again, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I missed you so much."

"Not as much as I did you," he said with some certainty, cherishing the kiss.

"Well we can compare later," she teased.

"That a promise?" He waggled his eyebrows. "You, Rose Tyler, were always all talk. Anyway, have to buy me a drink first."

A shout behind him made him miss the confused look on Rose's face as he turned to see Owen sauntering casually over the road.

"Oi, thanks for leaving me standing there talking to myself. I didn't even notice you'd gone until some woman asked me if I was okay. Felt like a right Muppet." Owen groused.

"Well, you are," the Doctor replied scathingly. "Ewan the useless meet Rose Tyler."

Rose smiled at the man with a permanent sneer on his face.

"Hello, we've been looking for you." He sniffed and looked over her shoulder. "I thought you said she worked for Torchwood, not some child herder? What's with the rug rats?"

Rose barked a laugh at the comment. "I'm a Field Commander for Torchwood, but it's a…like a Bank Holiday here in commemoration of the Battle of Canary Wharf. These are War Orphans under care of Torchwood."

"Oh," Owen shrugged. "Nice. Community care."

"Gotta promote the image."

"And you do it well," Owen eyed her lithe form.

It wasn't his to look at.

The Doctor's blood began to boil. Owen was just some lackey of Jack's that had no right to look at Rose like that. He didn't have the right to undress her with his eyes. He didn't have the right to even look at her. He was nothing. Nothing.

Kill him. One snap to the neck, it'd all be over so very fast. One less 'pretty boy' to get in the way. No competition, no Owen. Kill him. One tiny little snap.

Fire burned in his eyes and he felt his fingers clench.

The Doctor pushed Rose a little behind him, shielding her with his body and glared at Owen. "Ewan, why don't you show the little kiddies how not to cross the road. Blindfolded."

The threat was apparent in his voice and in his eyes and Owen stepped back, hands held up in surrender.

"Right."

When the Doctor glanced back at Rose's shocked face he almost cursed at his lack of self control; if he kept on like this then she was sure to realise that something was wrong.

"Doctor?"

He pointed a finger at Owen jokingly. "Been winding me up for hours, he has, almost as bad as Mickey."

Rose grabbed his hand in both of hers and the Doctor turned his attention back to her, allowing his hidden anger to fade.

"I can't believe you're actually here," she muttered, something so familiar dancing in her expression.

His hand drifted up to her face, caressing those satiny soft cheeks that he hadn't seen in so long. "You had to know I'd come for you, Rose."

She nodded mutely, an obvious lump in her throat. "You burned a sun to say goodbye."

"_I believe that was me," _said the passenger within his mind who had remained uncharacteristically silent at his reunion with Rose._ "I burned the sun."_

Him, always him—always the pretty boy. No, he wasn't going to allow that this time.

"I'd do more," the Doctor spoke over him, passion in his voice. "I'd collapse universes for you."

Her eyes widened and her voice was tremulous, almost disbelieving as his previous threats and dire warnings of galactic calamity echoed in her mind. "You haven't?"

"If we don't get back in eighteen hours, then yeah," Owen interjected.

Rose's eyes refused to leave the Doctor's, searching for something. "Eighteen hours?"

"There's someone on the other side waiting to pull us back."

"And…and, we can't ever come back here?" Rose bit her lip as he shook his head.

"No, Rose. This is a one way trip, too much stress could tear the universe apart and I'd like to avoid that."

"But there's time to say goodbye, yeah. To Mickey and Mum and Dad and Shaun?"

A stab of something akin to jealousy made the Doctor's jaw tighten. "Shaun?"

Rose's smile blossomed. "My little brother. Told you mum was pregnant, she had a boy. Little Shaun, image of Pete, let me tell ya."

"We can say a quick goodbye, if you like," he offered magnanimously. "But we do have to be quick."

Rose nodded, understanding the seriousness of their position. "I have to get the kids back to Torchwood and then get to mum's. She'll be thrilled to see you."

"Sure," he scoffed and then had a flash of memory that wasn't his. Jackie, wrapping her arms around him a hug, planting fervent kisses all over his face and grinning at him in glee.

Jackie Tyler actually liked the next version of him.

He grimaced.

There was no accounting for taste.


	11. Chapter 10

The Darkness within

**Chapter 10**

The Doctor walked Rose to her parents' house with barely concealed impatience and inner insults to the 'domesticated' man he'd become.

Had he known that his internal prisoner was deriving no little torment from this, he'd have been far more eager to reacquaint himself with the Tyler's. As it was, he was unaware that the imprisoned Doctor was in acute pain.

"Let me out!" he screamed, tearing at his chains until blood ran in slick rivulets onto the dark sheets. He slammed his head back against the mattress in aggravation and felt tears of pure frustration slide down his face.

Bad enough to have been taken over by a previous version of himself.

Worse when that version was certifiably insane.

Bad enough to have met an abandoned companion.

Worse when that man turned out to be immortal.

Bad enough when the crazy version berated him for not trying hard enough to get the woman he loved back.

Worse because he was right…even worse because he had achieved it.

Bad enough that the crazy part of himself reunited with a beautiful Rose.

Worse when he hugged her—and the Doctor couldn't. Even worse when he kissed her—and the Doctor couldn't. Even worse when he was off to see her family—_his_—family and doesn't even realise what a precious gift he was being given.

The Doctor kicked his heels against the bed-frame like a fractious child and let out another scream.

"Let me go!"

But it was fruitless. He was being held by himself—only a version of himself with better mental training and a proficiency for sadistic mind games. He couldn't break these bonds by pulling and yanking; physical force had no place here.

It had to be a mental strength.

He gritted his teeth and willed his body to relax, dragging his brain back to the training received on Gallifrey of how to strengthen your mind. He had to do this; there was no way he could lay here and watch as his former self threw away everything that he had worked so hard for.

He was going to fight himself—and win.

Meanwhile on the outside the Doctor was wondering whether this trip had been worth the enthusiastic, and somewhat damp, reception that Jackie Tyler had given him.

One glance at him on her doorstep had led to a piercing scream, wailing sobs and an embrace that could choke a Sontaran.

Then Pete clapped him on the back, little Shaun spat up over his trousers and demanded to be held, and Mickey the Idiot arrived. This seemed to be the precursor of a Tyler sob-fest and re-enactment of all the adventures that they had been on.

Rose was amused; he contemplated suicide.

The plain fact was that the Doctor was more than slightly uncomfortable with the gushing way he was welcomed back into the Tyler fold and seething resentment burned in his veins.

It wasn't _him_ they were so pleased to see.

The first time he had seen Jackie Tyler she'd hit on him, the next time she'd called the police to take him away. She'd slapped him and called him all the names under the sun. Jackie Tyler had made no secret about the fact that she hated him.

It wasn't him she had held as he fell to the ground. It wasn't him who she had nursed back to health or cooked Christmas dinner for. It wasn't him who had hugged her or made sure Rose called her regularly. It wasn't him who brought Rose back to see her and stayed the night, or held her hand as she cried drunkenly over Pete or danced with her at Mo's third wedding.

The same with Pete Tyler and Mickey.

He'd sent Pete to his death with that Reaper hanging over his head. Mickey had been held on murder charges because of him. He'd called the Doctor a 'thing' and mocked his ears, mocked his ship, mocked him.

The memories of working with Pete Tyler weren't his. Memories of camaraderie with Mickey the Idiot did not belong to him. Memories of travelling with Mickey, laughing with Mickey, teasing him over future football matches and watching with pride as he took on the Cybermen—none of those belonged to him.

They belonged to his future. They preferred the man he had become and would be horrified if they knew who it was that they were embracing and congratulating and holding so tight.

He felt sick down to his stomach and only managed to maintain the fake smile plastered to his face due to the very alive Rose sitting so close to him, refusing to let go of his hand.

Owen did his best to dispel any awkward moments, even if he didn't realise that that it what they were. He asked about the differences between this world and the first Earth from people who had been in both, and got into an argument with Pete about the merits of proper football verses the American style which was prevalent in Pete's World.

"It's like sport for ponces," Owen said in disgust. "Who straps on about a hundred pounds of gear to play rugby?"

Realising that there was about to be a battle of the hooligans, the Doctor decided to make a quick retreat to regroup.

The Doctor finished his tea and took the opportunity to escape the madness to take the mug back into the kitchen.

He leaned against the sink breathing hard and stared into his reflection in the window above the draining board. He could see his face staring back at him.

No. Not _his_ face. Not the face with sticky-out ears and big nose, not the face full of character and hard lines and memories and life; but a pretty boy face with charm and ridiculous hair.

This face was what those people in there loved. This face and this body had held Rose through some dark nights and made her face light up. It was this face, this body, this man who had stolen their hearts.

He'd stolen the life that was supposed to be _his_. This version had taken what was rightfully his and let it slip through his fingers like water.

"I hate you," he whispered to his reflection. "I hate you so much."

And he did. Rassilon, didn't this man know what he had held in his hands?

Pure gold, that's what. He'd had a family here, for Gallifrey's sake and he'd allowed it to be sucked through into another universe and had done nothing to save it. The man he had been was a fool and the man he was now would not allow that to be taken away.

He'd regenerate before he'd let the pretty boy come back.

He stared into brown eyes that glinted blue with his hatred. "I'll kill you," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Try to come back and I'll kill you."

"What was that?"

He jumped and stared the reflection of a bemused blonde. He'd been so wrapped up in his internal musings that he hadn't noticed Rose coming up behind him.

Rose, for her part, had been watching the Doctor carefully since his miraculous reappearance. No longer the naive teenager who'd stumbled aboard the TARDIS so long ago, she wouldn't be put off by the Doctor's casual "I'll tell you later" anymore than she believed his sweet but illogical reason for his return to the previous accent and wardrobe choice.

Rose had known both Doctor's and was picking up vibes and nuances that she thought had died in a flash of golden light. The tightening of knuckles on a cup made with two sugars instead of one; the aggressive folding of the arms or flash of manic grin; the sudden flare of pain in haunted eyes.

No. Something was wrong; it was almost as if he was regressing, going back a regeneration. But that was impossible, right?

He'd told her, on one uncharacteristically sharing night, that the huge surge of time vortex energy had killed every cell in his body causing it to change.

Could another energy surge cause a reversal? Say a hole in the universe; the rift?

Had the Doctor done the impossible, destroying himself in the process? Rose felt sick at the very thought.

She followed him into the kitchen to confront him, but seeing him there by the sink just rekindled feelings that she'd tried so hard to suppress.

Damn, but she'd missed him.

The Doctor interrupted her thoughts with a genuine smile and she softened.

He watched Rose smile back in such a way that he knew, just knew, that he could turn and hold out his arms and she'd fall into them with a soft sigh.

But he couldn't do it. Not just yet, no matter how much he longed for it—for her—because he couldn't stand feeling the wrong arms hold his girl just yet.

"Doctor?" Rose stepped up and stared at him in the window. "What's wrong? You did the impossible, yeah, you made it back. We…You should be happy but you look like the TARDIS just died."

The Doctor sighed and dug his hands into his leather jacket, turning to face her. "Yeah. S'pose."

"So why aren't you?" Rose bit her lip. "Do you regret coming back?"

"No!" It all but exploded out of his mouth. "Never, Rose." He reached up to cup her cheek like he done all those years ago in the church. "Don't regret you, my daft little ape."

Rose gave him an odd look, fearful of what he would say. "So what is it?"

"It's this place, Rose, Pete's world. It feels…odd." He shrugged. "Remember when I told you that I could feel the turn of the Earth?"

"You said," Rose looked up at the ceiling, "that the ground beneath our feet was spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet was hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And you could feel it. You said we were falling through space. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go..."

She trailed off and smiled softly.

He raised his eyebrows at her verbatim recitation. "Impressive."

She inclined her head and gave him a teasing look. "Well, you did make an impression. Tell a girl that and walk away. Forget you? I don't think so."

"Glad to know I was memorable," he said somewhat morosely and then straightened again. "The thing is that this world is wrong. It's not where we belong, not where _I_ belong. And I can feel it. The turn of the Earth is wrong, the constellations are wrong and it…hurts."

Rose looked alarmed, her suspicions confirmed. "What, it actually hurts you?"

He nodded, feeling only slightly guilty at his misleading statement. Okay, the turn of this universe made him feel slightly giddy. But that could have been Rose's hand in his.

What made him hurt was the way this world had forgotten him.

"I get that," Rose's words were sudden and made him start.

"What?"

"When I first got here it was like the world was spinning too much," Rose bit her lip. "Spent ages feeling dizzy. I used to lie on my bed and feel like I could feel the Earth turning and time going too fast." She shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. "Mum said I was imagining it because I missed you. She said she didn't feel anything and Mickey didn't either."

The Doctor beamed at her with pride. "Rose Tyler, my little time-detector. You're right. You did feel it. Spending any time in the TARDIS gives humans a kind of seventh sense… actually it'd be your tenth sense because humans do actually have more than six senses you know, I think in the twentieth century you've discovered about nine."

"Nine?" Rose blinked and then grinned. "That was always my favourite number."

The Doctor felt warm. "Mine too. You know the usual five and then there's Thermoception, Equilibrioception, Nociception, Proprioception."

Rose pointed to her head. "Blonde."

He grinned widely. "Heat, balance, pain and unconscious knowledge."

"Like what?"

"Like 'this is wrong', 'murder is bad', 'ice-cream cures all evils', that kind of thing."

Rose ducked her head as her heart gave a sudden pang. He sounded so much like his old self, like the man who she'd first met that for a moment she missed her old Doctor fiercely.

He noticed her reaction and poked her. "What?"

"You sound more like the old you now." She reached over to touch his leather jacket in sweet nostalgia that had his pulses tripping.

"That okay?" He swallowed.

"Yeah," Rose nodded and his hearts swelled as he opened his mouth to reply, to tell her the truth.

"Is what okay?" Mickey interrupted as he walked into the room.

The Doctor felt that wave of unease as the boy nodded friendlily to him before putting his mug in the sink.

"All right, Doctor?"

"Yep, Ri—uh, Mickey."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the Rickey/Mickey thing…not so funny after a couple of years, mate."

"Right."

Mickey leaned against the table, age and some kind of wisdom showing in his brown eyes. "So, what's with the nurfy chav in the other room?"

"Nurfy chav?" A bark of laughter left the Doctor's lips. "Not heard that one."

"Nurf here is a mix of nerd and freak, I think," Rose frowned and shook her head. "Fashion and a new dad wasn't the only thing to get used to here. You know Top Shop is actually more expensive than Gucci here? Blew my mind, I tell ya!"

"Rose!"

They all turned towards the call from the other room and Rose groaned. "Back in a minute."

As soon as Rose left the Doctor searched for something to say to the boy who'd disparaged him and been ignored in return.

Mickey smiled. "You didn't answer my question. What's with Owen?"

"You don't like Ewan?" The Doctor regarded Mickey curiously.

Mickey shrugged. "He's okay. But I thought you only took girls along with you. Sort of like the TARDIS was a flying love shack. Except Captain Flash, of course."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "What gave you that idea?"

"Rose, Sarah Jane, she told me about some girl called Peri or was it Pepi?"

"I think that was a skunk."

"Right," Mickey sniffed. "Just figured it was an all girl's show."

The Doctor smirked. "Don't worry Mickey, you're still my favourite idiot."

For some reason that made Mickey duck his head and blush. The Doctor rolled his eyes before walking by.

"Yeah, still got it."

--

In later years the Doctor would sit down and think of all of the worst experiences of his life and, whilst watching Rose say good bye to her family wasn't going to be top of the list, it was up there with the regrowth of his third and sixth heads on his eleventh shoulders and the odd occasion when the TARDIS turned pink and played the Nutcracker suite when they landed.

It wasn't the heartbreaking looks or the tender yet somehow corny words of goodbye. Nor was it the overenthusiastic hugs and promises to 'never forget'. It wasn't the tears or even the pleading to come back if they could.

It was the sheer domesticity of it all. The mother hugging her daughter and kissing the Doctor on the cheek in a parody of congratulations of engagement. It was the manly handshake of the father-in-law and the giggled snorts of children.

He made his teeth ache with the simplicity and yet domesticity of it all.

It was family boiled down to its lowest levels and something that he would never have—either by choice or design and it made him dizzy and eager to get away.

The second Rose stopped crying and they drove away in Pete's jeep to get to the Zeppelin Station he heaved a huge sigh of relief, his muscles popping as he stretched.

Rose turned to him. "So out with it."

He blinked, panicked. "What?"

She rolled her eyes and held her hands up. "All this? Come on, how did you do it? Last I heard it was impossible to come through and yet here you are. So, c'mon, Doctor, brag a bit."

He beamed. "Oh yeah, didn't I tell you, brilliant me?"

Owen snorted. "Yeah brilliant. Mind like a genius, dresses like an extra from the village people."

"Ignore the 'B' team," the Doctor said over Rose's giggle. "It was simple really. We reconfigured the monitoring coordinates to synchronise with the temporal displacements and energy displacements of the breaches from your world through to ours. The transfer signatures aligned with the time space coordinates for this part of reality so all we had to do was reverse the energy signatures, relay the readings and retrace the temporal alignment and feed the figures into the rift monitor. Then using the residual TARDIS energy to open a small hole in the fabric of space and time using a very complicated yet easily stolen piece of space junk from the four-hundredth century we ripped open reality and poured through. Bob's your uncle, Pete's your dad here we are. Like I said; genius."

There was a moments silence and Rose turned to Owen who rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Toshiko found some numbers which told us where your universe was. She punched 'em in to Jack's computer after we got the missing pieces from a guy in Cardiff and the TARDIS boosted the signal so we could open the rift and get you back."

"Ohh!" Rose's eyes widened, enlightened. "Right."

"That's what I said!" the Doctor huffed. "Honestly, you people don't listen."

"I listen plenty," Rose grinned. "You just like making me feel daft."

"Sort of, yeah."

Rose frowned at him for a second and then licked her lips. "So, when you said—" she froze. "Hold up. Jack's machine? i_Jack/i_ Jack. Jack as in our Jack?"

The Doctor waggled his eyebrows and nodded.

Rose jumped in her seat. "Jack's alive? What, seriously?"

"Yep. Alive as in very not dead."

And more than a little annoyed at not being able to die. But that part of the conversation could wait. As long as she didn't ask the rather embarrassing question of how Jack managed to appear in the twentieth century after being left in space.

"How did that happen?" Rose leaned forward in interest. "Did you go back and get him?"

Ah.

--

"Rose Tyler, you are a sight for sore eyes!" Jack hoisted Rose up by her waist and spun her around before she even had time to register their move from one reality to the next.

Rose squealed as she smelled the wonderful mixture of cologne and pure male that was Captain Jack Harkness and she tightened her arms. "You're alive! God, Jack, I can't believe it."

Jack let her slide down his body to the floor with his trademark flirtatious grin and salacious leer, ignoring the way the Doctor glowered at him over her shoulder.

"Got something else you won't believe, sweetheart—"

"Ahem!" the Doctor cleared his throat.

"—but it can wait." Jack amended, noting the warning for what it was. "P.S I like what you've done with your hair, very chic, very now."

Rose self-consciously touched her roots. "Oh you know, new reality, new style."

Jack held his arms out. "Oh, I'm all for change. Can't you tell?"

Rose laughed. "You don't look any different."

His face took on an intense expression as he swallowed. "Appearances and all that, huh?"

Rose frowned as he stepped away, a fake smile shadowing the real one that had appeared when she had.

Secrets, more secrets. Just what the hell was going on here?

"Meet the team," Jack motioned to the people that Rose had registered on the periphery of her vision.

The Doctor watched as Rose greeted the other members of Torchwood with the friendliness and grace that she had always shown to everyone, from servant to Sire and he adored her all the more.

What he wasn't so fond of was the way that Jack seemed unable to take his hand off her for more than twenty seconds at a time; his palm on the small of her back, fingers tapping her shoulder, curving around her waist, sliding over her hair, cradling her cheek, holding her hand…

"Jack!" He all but exploded and winced as everyone stared at his outburst. He forced a smile. "I think Rose probably needs her rest, it's been a long day."

Jack looked sheepishly at Rose. "That right, darlin'?"

She tried to deny it but a yawn escaped her lips. "Yeah, little bit. It's not everyday your…Doctor comes and rescues you from a parallel universe, brings you back to your old one and you meet a guy you thought was dead."

Jack laughed. "Yeah, I can see how that one might not be covered in the Miss Manners etiquette book."

"Who?"

Jack groaned. "Now I feel old. Okay, missy, you can bunk—"

"With me." Once again all eyes were on the Doctor and he almost found himself blushing. "Mind in the gutter, you lot. I meant the TARDIS. Your old room's still there," he looked away, "you know, if you want."

Everyone could tell, even though he pretended that it didn't matter one bit to him whether she took him up on his offer, that it'd crush him if she said no.

Luckily Rose had no intention of doing that.

Rose's face lit up. "She's around?"

He nodded with a grin slowly building its way around his lips. "Yep."

Rose clapped her hands. "Sorry Jack, thanks for the invite but I just want to go home."

There seemed to be a stillness echoing in the room.

"Home?" Jack's voice sounded odd and Rose frowned.

"The TARDIS."

"Ah!" There was a collective sigh from Jack and the Doctor who seemed to puff up with abashed delight at hearing her call the TARDIS her home.

"All right, Rose, but I want dibs on a long conversation tomorrow?" Jack pointed teasingly at her and she nodded.

Despite his joking tone there was steel in his eyes and gave Rose the impression that there was something he needed to talk to her about. Rose could only guess that it something to do with the irascible man silently seething at Jack's familiarity and she was fine with that.

Maybe Jack could clue her in to what was going on with the Doctor and why he seemed to be two temper tantrums away from a heart attack.

"Yes, sir!" Rose snapped off a salute and Jack leered.

"Ooh, I like that." He leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips.

The Doctor snapped and, grasping Rose's arm, yanked her away from Jack with such force that he almost gave her whip-lash.

Rose stumbled up against him and frowned. "Rip my arm off why don't you?!"

"Hey, easy!" Jack held up his hands in protest but paused at the almost feral look on the Doctor's face. He recognised that defensive, almost savage look from his war days and realised that here was not just a man in love, but an animal guarding its territory. "It was just a good night kiss."

A kiss? Nothing from Jack was just a kiss, and who the hell did he think he was? Had he traversed time and space for Rose? Did he have the right to touch her? The Doctor clenched his fists as he stared Jack down.

"Doctor?" Rose touched his arm, disquiet on her face and worry in her voice. "Are you all right?"

He felt the soft pressure of her skin on his and looked down into her concerned eyes.

The whole room seemed to fade away, Jack's wary expression, Toshiko's concerned face, Owen's militant stand and Gwen's ready stance, and he was left with the vision of Rose standing watching him.

Rose who was getting more and more aware that there was something different about him. He i_had/i_ to tone this down or she'd know.

He held his hand out. "Come with me."

She reached over and tucked her fingers into his hand, her palm sliding against his with such aching familiarity that he wanted to cry.

Rose's expression was one of absolute trust, devotion and love and the Doctor felt his hearts thud against his chest in duel rhythm as he led her to the blue box that had been missing a vital piece for almost a year.

The TARDIS was still attached to Jack's rift machine by a leader cable and the door was ajar, but Rose had eyes for nothing else but him as he slid inside and felt the warm green hue of his home swallow him, even as he basked in the warmth of Rose's attention.

Rose finally tore her gaze away to look around, her breath catching in her throat. "I'm back," she whispered.

"Yes, you are." Funny, he'd always been annoyed by humans need to state the obvious _'it's a nice day', 'it's raining', 'you seem to be on fire'._ But with Rose he didn't mind so much, he could hardly believe it himself.

"I'm _back_," she repeated, her voice no more than a harsh whisper.

"Yeah."

"No, you don't get it," she sounded frustrated as she stepped back away from him, his hands feeling the loss even as she moved away to trace the contours of the ship with her fingers. "For so long I dreamed about her, dreamed about coming back. I kept telling myself that it was impossible, yeah, that you would have found some way of coming back for me already if it was possible. I told myself to move on…that I wouldn't be like Sarah Jane and just wait for you. I'd have that fantastic life. But I always hoped…"

He reached for her again. "I tried; it just took me longer than I hoped. Rose, you had to know that I would come back for you. I always have. Even _he_ knew that."

Rose turned to him. "He who?"

His eyes widened at his near faux pas. "Jack. Jack knew I'd come for you."

Rose blushed, seemingly embarrassed by this. "Yeah, you did." She folded her arms. "I missed her. 'was really weird trying to sleep without the TARDIS sounds, you know. There was like this humming that used to rock me to sleep."

"Central destabilisers," he corrected. "Yeah, they are rhythmic. Pitched to oscillate at premium zeitgeistic levels."

"Well," Rose said, "if I knew what that meant I'd be dead impressed."

Rose bit her lip and then decided to go ahead with what was on her mind. "You know, you need to see someone about this hair-trigger you've got. You didn't need to rip Jack's head off."

"He'd only grow another one," the Doctor muttered. Off Rose's look he relented. "He knows that I wanted to spend time with you, he was trying to wind me up."

Rose had to grin. "Yep, that's Jack." She paused. "Still, you need to watch your temper else you'll say something you don't mean."

"Oh, I'm always good with words, me. Except…" he trailed off and looked away.

There was awkward silence in the TARDIS, memories of what had been said and what hadn't lay heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words hovering over them with all the burden of a full rain cloud.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Rose Tyler, I was going to take you to so many places."

"Barcelona?" she teased, edging towards him, fingertips dancing along the console.

"The planet not the city," he agreed. "They have dogs with no noses."

Rose bit her lip impishly. "And how do they smell?"

He waited a beat, staring into her eyes and then slowly held out a hand. "Want to find out?"

Rose stared at that hand, the hand that had held hers through so much; the hand that had taken hers and saved her again and again; the hand that had been missing from her life and she'd never felt so sure of anything in her life.

"You have to ask?" she grasped his hand firmly. "I've got you back, Doctor, and this time I'm not letting go."

--

The Doctor had lived with many years of regret over things he had done or not done. He regretted planets that had died and others that had not. He regretted people he couldn't save and those he had when he shouldn't've. He regretted friends he'd ignored and things he'd taken for granted. But right now he knew that he would regret forever being tied inside his own mind and not being the one that rescued Rose from the Earth.

He yanked at his bindings and screamed with all of his might, hoping to at least give his ninth self a headache if nothing else. But inside he cursed and shouted his anger, fury and pain, using swear words that were outlawed in three solar systems and probably seditious on another twelve.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't. FAIR.

That man was the one who had thrown Rose away; he'd regenerated and deliberately kept her at an arms length prompting her distrust when he changed into this body. After months of trying to win Rose back he'd succeeded only to lose her and now, _now_, his old self was repeating the benefits. He was holding Rose tight, wrapping his arms around her, cradling her against his chest as he navigated his way around the console, loathe to let her far away from him.

And Rose wasn't protesting. She had to know that there was something wrong but she was content to be with him, being held by him.

The Doctor inside knew that Rose had loved him and he had never done anything about it, wanting to take his time and not screw things up. He had assumed that they had years together.

He was wrong and he had never got to say those words.

And if his alter ego had any say he would never get the chance, he would never get to hold Rose again, never get to say sorry or kiss her.

It wasn't fair! He opened his mouth to scream but it fell off in a choked cry, tears sliding down his face in frustration and anguish.

"Rose!" he croaked damply. "My Rose."

_My Rose _thundered the voice of the ninth Doctor.

"I'll get her back!" he vowed, yelling up at the ceiling. "I will escape."

_It'll be too late._ smirked the voice. S_he's already mine, pretty boy and I won't miss the boat this time. Rose Tyler belongs to me._

A shock of pain travelled down the chains that bound him, sending bolts of liquid fire screaming through his veins.

The Doctor threw his head back, refusing to yell in pain but biting his lip so hard that blood trickled once again down his chin.

_You are weak. A shadow of who I was…and will be again._

Not for the first time the Doctor felt a spike of fear at the abilities of his old self. Madness wrapped in obsession was not a good mix and if his reaction to Jack touching Rose was anything to go by, one of them was in terrible danger.

He couldn't let himself regret anything else.

--

Rose sighed as she leaned against her Doctor. After she had taken his hand he'd pulled her in to his body and just held her; performing all of his tasks with one arm firmly fixed around her chest, unwilling to let her go.

Not that she minded this new possessiveness, it made a change from the way he had sometimes treated her in the past.

Of course it wasn't as if Rose expected, or even wanted that now. After spending a long time analysing their relationship, Rose had been chagrined to admit that she had been unashamedly clingy to the regenerated Doctor.

The scare that he'd given her, in nearly dying, had made her almost suffocate the poor man. It was no wonder he'd asked Mickey to come onboard.

It had taken many hours of reflection on Earth 2.0 before Rose realized that the relationship had been unhealthy.

Torchwood 2 had been a learning curve for Rose when it came to both alien affairs and herself. She had to handle things on her own that she wasn't even aware that she could and this status, when added to her separation from the Doctor had forced her to grow up and assume a sense of responsibility. It was that ongoing sense of accountability that made her so aware of what the Doctor had done:

He'd punched a hole through into another universe at great cost, both to the fabric of time and to himself.

Hadn't he told her that travel between the two realities was dangerous to the point of impossible? Yet he'd done it; he'd thrown caution to the wind and defied them all. But why, why would he do that? Why would he risk so much. Surely it wasn't because of her; it couldn't have been.

She swallowed. "Doctor?"

"Hmm?" his voice rumbled in his chest and she snuggled further into him.

"I…uh…just wanted to know…why did you come back for me?"

He stilled. "Did you want to stay there? Eats peas on toast rather than beans and do domestic with Jackie?"

"No!" No," she replied immediately. "You know I wanted to come back to you." Rose gathered her courage. "I love you, Doctor, you know that."

He was silent a long moment and her courage flagged.

"I mean, 'snot important, just glad you did and that."

She made to move away but he gripped her arm forcefully and turned her to face him. His face was set in stone, features hard and intense as he scrutinised her, almost as if searching for weaknesses.

She felt cold and a little afraid of him for the first time. "Doctor?"

"I never ask anyone twice, Rose Tyler. Never. If they don't want to come with me then fine, no one gets a second chance. Except you. I went back twice to ask you to come with me. After I died the next me asked you again, at Christmas. Then I walked across universes to get you back. That's four times, Rose. Four."

"I'm grateful."

He sniffed, almost angrily. "I don't do domestic; rather boil my eyes, me. But you apes need to hear 'em no matter what I've shown you, don't you? Four times, Rose. No one else has ever had that. How can you think that I don't…that I…? I never said the words, but you know I do…right?"

Her heart melted. "Yeah, I do know. Don't need words."

"Tough," he breathed deeply. "Because you're going to get 'em. Rose Tyler…I love you. I love you, my stupid little ape. Despite the fact that you always wander off, you never stay put and you risk your life for me again and again."

Rose laughed out loud at the very characteristic declaration of her Doctor. Never one to wax on poetically, or be sentimental. He was brash and bolshy and she adored him.

"Oh, like you're a picnic yourself!"

"I am," he protested, a broad grin sweeping across his face. "I told you, genius, me!"

Rose just shook her head. "Well, you carry on being a genius, I'm gonna go and change."

The Doctor nodded but seemed even more reluctant to let go of her hand. Rose tugged and he pretended to pout, eliciting a giggle from Rose who suddenly felt years lighter.

"Let go then," she urged and he rolled his eyes.

"Always in a hurry."

Rose backed away. "Yeah well, I wanna see my room again." She paused before she reached the door and hesitated, her hand on the frame.

"What?"

"My room is still there, isn't it?"

Her insecurity was as endearing as it was unnecessary. His eyes softened.

"Nothing touched," he assured her and felt a missed beat as she smiled widely before walking away to rediscover her home.


	12. Chapter 11

The Darkness within

**Chapter 11**

A low hum resonated up through the floor, making the cool metal grating rattle slightly. The room juddered and the time rotor roared to a stop, its green cylinder sliding softly to the base of the column.

There was a moment of anticipation as all systems ground to a halt, and, finally, silence.

The Doctor flicked a switch with theatrical grace and turned to an expectant Rose.

"Well," she asked excitedly. "Where are we?"

He smiled and gestured to the door, his palm lifted in offering.

Rose all but danced to the spot. "Seriously, where are we?"

He grinned, remaining silent.

The Doctor had been annoyingly tight-lipped on their first destination merely waking her from sleep to inform her that they were leaving and, no, Jack wasn't going with them, they'd be back to visit, was she going to lie in bed all da—what i_was/i_ she wearing?

Minutes later a red-faced Rose entered the console room to find her manic tour guide already in hyper-motion around the TARDIS console, flicking switches and twiddling levers.

It gave her pause to see the restrained energy in his body. The Doctor he had been when she lost him had always seemed to exude energy—from his lithe figure to his mad hair he seemed to i_be/i_ energy in motion, a streak of lightning unable to be harnessed by mere mortals.

Sometimes it had made her long for the first man she had known who wore that jacket like armour to fend the world off. Now _he_ had repressed energy. His bulky body always appeared to be too small to hold in all the spark and drive that lay within. A few manic moments allowed her to see the passion that lay hidden but most of the time it was subdued under the buzz cut and layers of clothes.

Watching as her Doctor moved with that same innate grace and smothered sensuality made her bite her lip in pure feminine appreciation.

Yep, she thought, he still had it.

Just at that moment of unbridled lust he looked up and caught it. A shy smile fluttered across his lips followed by a swift expression of sadness, too deep for her to ignore but too painful for her to talk about.

She merely did what she knew he derived comfort from; she walked over and held his hand.

The Doctor squeezed her hand, glad that she wasn't asking any more questions about their abrupt departure. The fact was that he had seen that moment of silent conversation between Rose and Jack and the last thing he wanted was to have Rose asking Jack why he, the Doctor, was so different to what she remembered. Jack would eventually put two and two together and regale Rose with stories about Time Lords and their magnificent mental prowess and psychic manipulations.

No, better to vanish and try to get Rose to forget about the dashing Captain. It wouldn't work for long, he knew, but maybe he could stave it off for long enough that this version would be cemented in Rose's heart.

If only Rose had looked at his old body with the same amount of love and lust that she looked at this pretty boy model. It had been enough to break one of his hearts when he'd remembered which face he wore.

At least he had her here and willing to accept his less than stellar explanations. For now.

As the TARDIS materialised he reluctantly let go of her hand and nodded to the central ramp.

Rose bit her lip and stared at the door wondering what adventure lay before her out there. With a smile she stepped over to the blue door and laid her hands on it, feeling the susurration of the TARDIS as she whispered;

_GO ON, IT'S OKAY._

Taking a deep breath Rose pushed the door open and stepped out onto a new world and a new life.

A soft breeze was the first thing to greet Rose; a sweet smelling wind that whipped her hair around her cheeks and caressed her face.

She closed her eyes and inhaled that alien scent, revelling in that feeling that told her she was no longer on Earth—a feeling she had missed.

She felt the Doctor stand at her back, hands reaching up to stroke her shoulders like he couldn't wait to touch her.

"Oi," he reprimanded softly. "Didn't bring you 'ere to walk around with your eyes closed, bit dangerous that."

"Savouring it," she replied impishly, eyes still closed and he moved closer, wrapping his arms around her.

He bent so his mouth was level with her ear. "There'll be plenty more of this, Rose. I promise."

Rose could feel the depths of his vow and opened her eyes.

And screamed.

The Doctor's laugh echoed in her ear as she jumped back, almost trying to bury herself in his embrace.

"Its okay, Rose," he chortled.

"Okay?" she choked, "okay? How is this okay?"

Rose looked up and up, and up.

She craned her neck to look past the big wooden block and past soft pink trunks prickled with black spikes, a canopy of brown canvas and up into the far distant sky where green eyes the size of doors peered down at her.

"He almost stood on me!" she squeaked, unable to take her eyes off the giant who was regarding her with interest.

"Nah!" dismissed the Doctor. "He knew we were here."

"How?" Rose pointed to the sheer size of the giant. "We're like ants."

"And Lurcins have amazing eyesight; he can probably see your roots."

Rose scowled as the Doctor stepped around her and waved up at the huge man. "Hello!"

Like a mountain crumbling, the form bent and knelt down. The earth shook and trembled as he got down and leaned closer to the Doctor.

The giant poked a finger towards the tiny form in front of him, that finger being almost as big as the Doctor himself.

"Small!" the giant spoke and it was thunder rolling around the world until it reverberated into Rose's ears, translated by the TARDIS.

"Yup!" the Doctor rocked back on his heels. "Although I do go by Doctor, if it's all the same to you. Just visiting your planet, we are. This is Rose."

Rose waggled her fingers, feeling bemused as the man blinked at her, the motion of his lashes sending a fan of air towards her, buffering her back.

"Just popped in to see the Lurcinopolis…or is it Lurchin-city, Lurchinville, Lurchinconglomeration?"

"Funny little man!" the giant rumbled and Rose found her lips curving at his diagnosis.

"He has a point," she pointed out. "Way you go on he probably doesn't understand you."

He grimaced. "What do you want me to say? Take me to your leader?"

"Gwarf!" the giant beamed and held out his house sized hand.

Rose poked her tongue out as she stepped onto the proffered appendage. "That seemed to work."

The Doctor merely rolled his eyes and followed her onto the hand. "Here I was trying to educate you against the stereotypical; me human, you alien mentality."

Rose looked away, a smile in her voice. "Lucky I didn't take you to the deep south."

Remembering their conversation—oh so long ago—in the sun chamber on Platform one, he smirked.

"That's our next trip. You and me in Mardis Gras."

Rose gave him her most sceptical look as the giant lurched to his feet and started to lumber away. "i_You_/i dancing at Mardis Gras? Yeah, then we'll meet John Wayne and Shakespeare."

He pointed at her. "Will Shakespeare was a notorious flirt, Roe Tyler, you are going nowhere near him. Besides," he added, "We both know I…dance."

Rose flicked a glance at him but he was studiously ignoring her so she turned her attention back to their ride.

The fingers that held them curved up into a wall of flesh, stopping them from rolling around as the giant made his way to wherever he was taking them.

It had the scent of a journey, the promise of adventure and Rose relaxed back into the moment, staring at her Doctor trying to see into him to see the damage he'd caused with his rash actions.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"How come you sounds like you're from the north…again?"

He froze. "What?"

"The jacket, yeah, I get that and even the jeans which do look good," Rose twinkled at him before frowning. "But after you regenerated you sounded almost Londonish, now you've almost gone back to how you sounded before. Before you changed."

He swallowed hard. He hadn't noticed that he was slipping back into his northern accent. It was just the one he was most comfortable with and the one that fitted i_him/i_. Trust Rose to pick up on that.

He worried his lower lip and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking away.

"Why'd ya ask?"

Rose shook her head tentatively. "You just seem a bit more like old you."

He ducked his head. "Is that bad?"

"Never said it was."

"Never said it wasn't," he shot back defensively. "You forget that I'm an alien, Rose. I'm still the same man I was…before. Even though I look different."

And she'd never know exactly how true that was.

"I get that," Rose added quickly, "I do, yeah. It's just more obvious."

He would have changed the subject then and there, unwilling to touch on something so close to home except her next words stopped him dead.

"I like it," she said quietly and he half-spun, mouth agape at her words.

He stared at her wide-eyed for a long moment.

Had she really just said that she liked the fact that he was like…well, himself?

She'd been shooting him those looks and admitted that she loved him but he'd thought she'd mean this him, him version ten. To think…to have the hope that she meant i_him_/iNot just the body but the man; it was astounding, unthinkable and very, very welcome.

Perhaps it didn't matter so much which arms reached for Rose, if she'd accept them it would mean the world, the universe to him.

He opened his mouth to speak just as the giant unfurled his fingers.

Rose squinted against the bright light and held her hand up to shield her eyes from the sudden influx of sunlight.

When her vision cleared she stepped closer to the edge of the giant hand and stared out over the vast palm to the landscape beyond.

Out past the ragged fingernails and cuticles the size of her head, lay a whole city built on the gargantuan lines of the Goliath.

From their vantage point Rose could see the pay out of the town, spreading east and west over a vast scale. A large white town hall complete with golden bell and edged in semi-precious jewels was at one end of the village with the rows of houses in semi-circles set at angels making the aerial view one of a beautiful blossom opening her petals.

No two houses were alike either in form or colour but they merged so well that it almost impossible to tell. It was architects dream and an interior designer's nightmare. Chartreuse lay next to aqua, Edwardian Manor next to Sixties Retro; it was Monet and Mozart all in one and it was dazzling.

Turrets in silver and gold brick climbed into the sky like gems reaching for the sun to make them sparkle. Chimneys puffed out smoke of so many colours that Rose wondered what was cooking.

Two wheeled bicycles with behemoths cycling to and fro over the cobbled city streets almost ran down children the size of tower blocks. Houses made of glistening silver and dark webbing soared up through the atmosphere; a city of elegance and colour, taller than mountains and more beautiful than the first snow fall.

It was breathtaking.

"Woah," she breathed, impressed beyond belief.

"You should see it at night," the Doctor said with some satisfaction over her reaction, "with the stars out the whole place shimmers like moonlight."

"It's…amazing."

He shook his head. "It's f_antastic_."

"Gwarf!" the giant nodded and pointed to the city.

"Yep, looks like a Gwarf to me." the Doctor paused. "And a Gwarf is?"

A shadow fell over them and Rose blinked. "Uh, Doctor, I think this might be Gwarf."

The Doctor looked up, and up into the dark grey eyes of possibly one of the biggest things he had ever seen.

"Ah, right."

As it so happened Gwarf was the name of the leader of the aptly named Lurchiopolis. Gwarf was also the biggest, ugliest and scariest giant that the Doctor had ever seen, partially because of the excessive nasal hair but mostly due to his preponderance for mud-tasting coffee.

"Good!" Gwarf grunted down at the tiny creatures that sat in his saucer.

"Uh, yeah," Rose nodded, fighting back the urge to choke. "Not bad."

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed. "I've always had a fondness for mud."

Rose elbowed him. "What?"

"You're being rude again!"

He blinked. "Am I?" She nodded knowingly and he shook his head. "I must get that from him."

"Him who?"

He really had to learn to keep his wits about him.

"No one," he hedged and placed his hands in his pockets. "So Gwarf—nice place—been here before. Back in the days of old...what's-is-face, uh big guy."

"That narrows it down," Rose muttered staring around at the gargantuan proportions of the place. She found Gwarf looking at her curiously and she forced herself to make conversation. "It really is a beautiful city, very glamorous."

At the word Gwarf frowned, obviously not understanding.

Rose bit her lip and looked to the Doctor for help.

"—or was it Dresca'p? Nah, he was the foreign Minister of Gessleet. Lovely man, big teeth. Tegan—ah, no. Uh, maybe it was—"

She rolled her eyes. "Like the sun, yeah, shiny and sparkly."

Gwarf nodded at that, suitably pleased with the comparison and Rose grinned at one of her more successful attempts at human/alien relations.

Far more successful than her meeting with the Ambassador from Fredonia back on Earth 2.0. But how was she supposed to know that sneezing was an offensive manoeuvre—she'd had a rotten cold. It was fun trying to explain that she hadn't meant to call the Ambassador's wife a hippo.

"Artan!" the Doctor exploded, slapping his knee, startling her back out of her reminiscing. "That was 'im. Artan, beefy feller, made good soup."

Rose faced him. "What are you going on about now?"

"The bloke I met before, Lurchin leader- Artan."

"Artan!" Gwarf gasped and they both stared up into his surprised face. "Big Artan?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Bigger than a breadbox."

"Doctor!" Rose warned, her elbow making its way into his ribcage.

"Ouch, dangerous you are!" he moaned and then nodded at Gwarf. "Yes Artan. Friend of mine."

"Great powerful Artan, made Polis."

"Yeah, Artan was originally going for the old straw and wood fix but I told him it was too 'three little pigs'. Clever bloke you know," he offered in an aside to Rose, "understood the plans right away."

Rose just shook her head. "You mean to tell me that you helped build Lurchy—Lurkin—Lychee… Rainbow City out there?"

He beamed. "Sort of, yeah. Hey, is the vanishing pond still here? Great architecture that. Got it from Leonardo, now there's a bloke that knows his scarlet from his crimson. Did tend to gets a bit tetchy with constructive criticism though. Smirking Lisa—not one of his best pieces."

Gwarf hadn't been able to follow the Doctor's long winded ramble—and neither, to be perfectly honest, had Rose—but the part that he did get had an affect on him.

"Gribbsey'ral!" Gwarf stated vehemently.

Rose blinked. "Huh?"

The Doctor shook his head quickly. "No. Not at all, just visitors."

"Was that English?"

"Gribbsey'ral!" insisted Gwarf and gave a low moan, causing six other Lurchins to lumber into the room.

Rose stepped back, suddenly remembering how most of her 'adventures' with the Doctor tended to end up—and it wasn't drinking coffee. "What's it mean, Doctor?"

He didn't say a word watching in growing alarm as Gwarf spoke rapidly in Olde Lurchin to the newcomers causing them to look wide-eyed at Rose and the Doctor.

Rose pushed his arm. "Doctor what does Gibbseyrail mean?"

"Fat turtle."

She clenched her jaw, dragging his attention back to her. "So they're calling us fat turtles?"

"Ah, no."

"Sooo?" Rose felt the oh-so familiar tendril of frustration at the Doctor's deliberate misunderstanding of her.

He remembered that look, and his jaw ached.

"Ok," he relented, "it means mini god."

There was a moment of silence. "What?"

"Mini Gods." He shrugged somewhat embarrassed. "Lurchins can be a bit superstitious."

"Folklore is he?" She said, bemused but annoyed.

"Legend," he sniffed. "They think we're his messengers. Mini gods."

"Well," Rose considered. "That's not too bad, yeah?"

He winced.

"Doctor?"

"Great people, the Lurchins. But they do believe in absorbtiosis."

"You made that up," she accused, planting her hands on her hips in mock indignation.

"Sort of, yeah," he grinned at her. "Basically they believe that they can take on certain abilities through digestion."

Rose thought about this for a second.

"Digestion?"

"Yep."

"Us?"

"Most probably."

"Right."

"You know, mentioning that I knew old Artan was possibly not a good idea," the Doctor mused.

"Ya think?" Rose's voice dripped with sarcasm.

There was a beat and the Doctor caught Rose's eye, holding out his hand. "Guess what?"

Rose beamed and readied her feet. "Run for your life?"

"Got it in one."

--

Hours later Rose picked leaves out of her hair as she and the Doctor sat next to the TARDIS overlooking the bright city. Darkness had rendered them almost invisible to the Lurchins and they had been able to stop hiding under mushrooms and head back for safety.

"You know," Rose broke the silence, "I think I'm kinda flattered being thought of as a mini appetiser."

"Eat a god, gain it's powers." The Doctor lay back on the grass and stared up into the sky. "Although what they'd get from you, I'm not sure. The ability to accessorise, probably. Still they're not the only civilisation that does it. It's the ultimate you-are-what-you-eat mentality. Gillian McKeith come to life—now isn't _that_ scary!"

Rose wrinkled her nose, choosing to ignore his previous comment. "But eating what you worship?"

"Sorry, Miss Häagen-Dazs®."

"I don't worship Häagen-Dazs®!" she protested.

"I've heard the noises you make with Cookie Dough, Rose, you're fooling no one."

Rose leaned over and punched him.

"Oi!" He rubbed his arm with a mock-pout.

"You were right though," she admitted.

"Usually am," he said with some satisfaction. He paused. "About what?"

"The stars look beautiful over the city; it really is like a river of moonlight."

He said nothing and Rose turned to look at him.

But he wasn't looking at the city, he was looking at something else bathed in moonlight—Rose.

"What?" she smiled at the tender look in his eyes.

"You're a miracle, Rose Tyler." His voice was intense. "I never thought I'd get to be here with you."

Not this way. Not alive.

"Never say never," she replied.

The Doctor reached over and brushed a hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek, eyes thoughtful.

Rose held her breath as he moved his head, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

Rose had never thought that this would ever happen; never thought that he'd ever take this next step.

Never say never.

He pulled away, uncertain. "All right?"

Rose searched his eyes and swallowed. "Everything's going to change isn't it?"

"Yes." He didn't even pretend not to understand her.

She reached for his jacket and tugged him closer to her, smiling softly. "Fantastic."

Her answer was a gentle kiss under a sparkling sky.

--Epilogue--

Silence reigned in the small room; pure and unsullied—no outer interference or distant disturbance.

A figure lay still on the bed, heavy looking chains tying him down with all the appearance of permanence.

He was totally motionless, no signs of movement or life, not even the slight raising of a chest in breathing.

Nothing.

He was not dead, not alive; dormant.

Inside his body, however, was a well of power—a spiral of pure green energy coiled low in his belly.

It shimmered and sparkled, like a snake made of emeralds.

A finger of gold swelled from his mind and slithered through his body until it reached the coil and, with a serpentine finger, it stroked a tendril of light against it, lighting up the places where it touched. Those spots grew in intensity, a jade pulsation ebbing through the coil until shards of deepest forest coloured sparkles erupted from the coil, sliding together to join up as one smooth stone of energy.

That circle drooped low in the belly and slid carefully into the bloodstream, travelling through the veins, allowing every inch of the system to absorb some of the power in that stone.

The outer body took on a green hue, glowing with iridescent light.

But the circle of stone carried on inside; it circled his body, until it was led to the brain where it formed links in synapses and throbbed like the heart itself. The stone flickered like a gemstone and synapses fired, flexed, hardened and _connected_.

One push was all it took.

In the still of the room all was silent and still as the manacles simply vanished.

The figure on the bed was not dead and no longer chained.

The Doctor smiled.

To be continued…… New Story Called Encroaching Madness. You want it? You review. Simple as.


End file.
